


You're in the army now

by Sani86



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Army, Based on a movie: Moffie (2020), Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Drug Use, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Military, Minor Character Death, South Africa, Suicide, Violence, read the author's note!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28937535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sani86/pseuds/Sani86
Summary: South Africa, 1981.Remus Lupin, 17 years old, is leaving home for the first time to serve his military conscription. But he's carrying a terrible secret with him; one that could cost him his friends, his freedom or perhaps even his life. He knows the army doesn't like people like him; hiding the truth about his sexuality is his only hope of survival.Easily enough done - he's had years of practice at it, after all. But then one Sirius Black steps into his world and upsets everything.***[A non-magical AU set in South Africa in the 1980's. Read the author's note, please!!]
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 44
Kudos: 21





	1. Part 1: How to Make a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance for this super-long note. And to my regulars who are here for Good Omens fics - I’m sorry! There will be more GO soon, promise 😉. Or if there’s interest, I might re-write this as a GO AU...?
> 
> Hmmmmmmmm - this note got so long that AO3 wouldn't let me post it. So I've stuck it in the beginning of Chapter 1. Oops.

**Author's note**

This fic was born because I saw an absolutely gut-wrenching movie, _Moffie._ It’s about a young gay man serving his military conscription in South Africa, circa 1981. (Based on a book by the same name; it’s on Amazon Kindle, if you want to read the original story instead of my ramblings).

It fucking destroyed me. Especially the way it ended. So I dealt with it the way I always do (see: my GO Dead Poets Society obsession) and turned it into a fanfic with a happy ending. Thus, parts one and two of this fic are a fairly close approximation to the original plot, with a number of scenes lifted almost verbatim from the movie (so no credit to me there - all the credit goes to Andre Carl van der Merwe, the original author of the book, and Oliver Hermanus, the director of the film. I mean, I know it’s lazy writing, but there’s no way I could improve on the source material. I’m not that talented. I just tweaked a few details to make it better suit the Marauders). Part three (the ‘fix-it’, if you will) is 100% my own.

People who read my Good Omens fics will know I have a fondness for transplanting the characters to South Africa, which is my home turf. After much deliberation, I chose to use the HP Marauders era characters for this, because Remus and Sirius were just too perfect (Hell, they even look like the original actors). It’s the first time I’m writing anything in the HP universe, so I’m pretty sure some characters will be OOC or just in the wrong setting; we’ll just ignore that, hmm?

It goes without saying that this is a non-magic, totally muggle AU. Nothing resembling the HP universe in the slightest. I just like the characters’ personalities. I own nothing, not from HP or _Moffie_ ; I’m just using them to process *feelings*.

So, a few historic and cultural things you should probably know about South Africa in the 80’s:

\- This is slap-bang in the[ Apartheid ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apartheid) era. Go read up on it. The gist is that it was a period of extreme institutional racism, and white supremacy was considered not only normal but a god-given right. This story doesn’t really deal with the race theme (seeing as non-whites weren’t really allowed to serve in the military; rather, the military was used to keep them in line), but it’s important to know that it’s there. (If you’re interested in the race perspective, go check out [ my SA GOmens fics ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022163))

\- All white men between the ages of 17 and 60 were compelled to serve 2 years in the military. Most guys did this either straight out of high school or immediately after university. It was not optional. If you were physically or mentally unfit for active service, you did something else, like admin or support services.

\- Society as a whole was extremely homophobic - m/m sex was actually illegal until 1994/6 (although the same was never true for w/w, go figure). So besides the extreme prejudice, gay men faced the risk of imprisonment. The army itself was violently homophobic - this story will give you an idea of just how violent. Forced conversion therapy was a thing - go read up on [ The Aversion Project ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Aversion_Project) if you feel like a real-life horror story.

\- The word “moffie” was the homophobic slur of choice. (Remember it, it will pop up in the fic!) For a man, it was about the worst thing you could be called, because it carried a whole host of prejudices with it. If you’re interested, there’s a whole collection of short videos on Youtube (tagged [ #calledamoffie ](https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=%23calledamoffie) ) where SA celebs talk about their experiences with the slur. [ The one by Casper de Vries ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLVQM7FxDyU) is especially poignant, I highly recommend taking the three-odd minutes to watch it.

\- Extremely narrow-minded, conservative Christian views were the default. God and the Bible was used to justify all sorts of atrocities. I will refer to this now and then in the fic, so if that’s something you’re sensitive about, be warned: I don’t go easy on organised religion.

\- The majority of whites, and certainly the ones at the top of the pile, were Afrikaners (Afrikaans-speaking people). Afrikaners had a certain disdain for the English, seeing them as weak and cowardly. It was nothing like as bad as the prejudice against non-whites, but it was there and it was real. Souties (as Englishmen were called) were definitely picked on by the Afrikaner boys.

\- During 1975-1988, the SADF was embroiled in the [ Border War ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_African_Border_War) (aka the Namibian War of Independence or the Angolan Bush War). This is where our boys end up serving their active duty after basic training, on the border between Namibia and Angola. Many of the men who were in the army in those years fought in and were traumatised by the war; most of them still don’t talk about it.

\- Toxic masculinity was the norm; men were expected to be ‘tough’ and ‘manly’ and all that shit. Deviation from it, at least in the direction of being softer, was seen as weakness and a sign of homosexuality, which was just about the worst thing you could accuse a man of. On the other hand, deviation in the other direction, of more extreme violence, was likely to get you officer ranking in the army or a seat in parliament. It was a shitty time.

And what you should know about me: I am a born-and-bred South African, I am white and Afrikaans and Christian, and my cultural legacy is 350+ years of being an absolute shit race of people. I freely admit that. I was born mid-80’s, so I lived through only the tail-end of Apartheid; this story is set in my parents’ lifetime.

  
**Content warnings for the fic as a whole:** this will be a pretty dark fic, at least the first two parts. Sadly, it’s based on a pretty dark history. Homophobia and violence in spades. Enough toxic masculinity to drown an elephant. Also racism, lots of swearing, slurs, character death, suicide, drug use, references to really shitty treatment of mental health patients, people being extreme assholes, and some more homophobia. Seriously, if you want pure fluff, or if you’re likely to be triggered by any of these things, go elsewhere. BUT, like all my stories, there will be bits of softness interspersed, part 3 is much more in my usual gentle style, and it WILL have a happy ending. I promise to make it worth the angst in the end.

Oh yes - the art is by yours truly; they're watercolours of screencaps from the movie :)

* * *

**PART 1: HOW TO MAKE A MAN**

Remus was nervous.

Okay, that wasn’t quite right. He was, in fact, very nearly sick with dread. But he hoped he could pass off as no more than nervous. He had a feeling that showing weakness would not serve him well in the army.

The roiling in his stomach intensified tenfold as the train rolled to a stop and a uniformed man stepped out of each carriage, standing to attention and looking sternly intimidating. Remus had to assume they were some sort of officers; corporals, maybe.

“Lupin!” one of them barked out, a couple of trucks down from where he was standing. Apparently they knew who they were picking up at each stop. Not a great feat in his case, since he was the only young man waiting for the train at this godforsaken little rural train station.

Remus picked up his bag and moved off toward the man who had called his name.

“Come, come, come!” the man yelled. “Get a fucking move on. We don’t have all fucking day!” Remus broke into a jog and scrambled up the step into the carriage. The officer followed him in, snapping out instructions - liberally sprinkled with expletives - all the way. He stumbled down the narrow passage, catching glimpses of… well, he supposed they were his new comrades. A few of them were sleeping despite the racket, a couple were playing a very loud game of cards, one was throwing up into a paper bag. 

“In there!” the officer shoved Remus roughly into a compartment. “We’ll arrive in Middelburg tomorrow, you will not set a foot off this train before then. If I catch you fucking around, and I’ll fuck _you_ up good. Got it?”

Before Remus could answer, the officer turned on his heel and stomped off, roughly kicking and cursing at a guy who was sitting slumped in the passage for no apparent reason.

Remus turned to go into the carriage, feeling more than a little shaken. He wondered what he - what any of them - had done to deserve such rough treatment right off the bat. Perhaps they didn’t need to do anything. This was the army, after all.

He plonked his bag down on the seat that he supposed would also serve as a bed and sank down onto the hard cushion next to it. He took a shaky breath. What the hell was he getting into?

“You okay?”

Remus was startled to see another boy in the cabin with him, lounging on the opposite seat with his back against the wall next to the door.

“Yeah,” he managed weakly. “Just, um. Hot in here.” He pulled off his jacket to emphasize his point.

“English, huh?” the other boy said. “Thank God. I was starting to think I’m the only one.” The boy gave a nervous chuckle, to which Remus replied with a weak smile.

“James Potter,” the boy said, extending a hand. Remus gave it a quick shake. 

“Remus Lupin.”

“Unusual name,” James remarked.

“Hmm.”

There were a few beats of awkward silence. Then James extended the bottle he was holding - a halfjack of Bells. “Want a drink?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” Remus said. He’d hardly ever had alcohol, just the occasional glass of wine on a special occasion, or perhaps a beer with the braai on a Saturday.

“Yeah?” James said sceptically. “You do know where we’re going, right?”

Remus had thought he did, but he was beginning to suspect that he didn’t know the half of it.

*****************************************************

After two days and one night of the worst travel that Remus had ever experienced, they arrived at the station in Middelburg in the late afternoon, where they were greeted by a few more officers who shouted them off the train and into a convoy of personnel carriers.

Remus changed his mind, then - the train was infinitely more comfortable than the hard wooden seats in the back of the armoured trucks. It didn't help that the trucks had no suspension to speak of, and that the drivers seemed to think they were competing in the world rally championship. Remus was sure his bottom spent more time in the air, bouncing around from the violent shaking, than in actual contact with the seats. He braced himself with one hand on the roof and prayed for it to be over.

Things didn’t get much better once they stopped. More shouting, more shoving, as they were herded to what seemed to be the hospital building and ordered to strip down for their medicals.

They stood there awkwardly in their underpants until they were bullied into line and pushed through a basic medical examination.

“Hey, you!” an angry-looking, mustachioed man shouted at one of the boys, yanking him out of line. _Carrow_ , read the name badge on his chest. “Are you looking, huh? Getting an eyeful? What are you, some sort of arsefucking faggot?”

“No, sir,” the stammering boy protested.

“Sir? SIR?!” The officer was going quite red in the face now. “I am Sargeant to you, you thin streak of piss.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” the boy hastily corrected. “Sorry, Sergeant.”

“Get back in line, you disgrace,” he spat. “And keep your eyes to yourself.”

The sergeant wandered down the queue, regarding them all with a critical eye. Remus kept his gaze fixed stolidly on the ground ahead of him, not daring to make eye contact.

“And what about you, eh, Pimplepussy?” the sergeant sneered at his next victim, a scrawny boy that was, unfortunately, suffering from rather bad acne. “What the fuck are you doing here? You look like you should be in fucking primary school!”

Remus shuddered at the unthinking crassness, even as he thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't particularly short, or fat, or funny-looking. He would hate to draw that horrible man’s attention to himself.

He bit off a sigh of relief as the line shuffled forward and he stepped into the medical office.

\---

The first night in the barracks didn’t go much better. There were twenty of them in a room, two lines of narrow beds interspersed with wardrobes and a trunk at the foot of each bed. No luxuries in the army, but at least there was a pillow and a blanket and a place to put his clothes.

Remus unpacked the few changes of clothes and underwear he’d brought with him into the wardrobe, trying to ignore the rowdy shouts of his roommates. He didn’t even notice that his photo had landed on the floor until one of the other boys gave a derogatory chuckle.

“What’s this then?” he sneered, holding up the photo for the others to see. Remus blanched when he realised what the guy was holding. He’d brought a photo of his parents with him because… well, he wasn’t really sure why, except for a vague need for some form of comfort and familiarity.

“Give that back,” he said, voice wavering.

“Oh, ho, ho,” the boy said. “Soutie brought a photo of his mommy and daddy. What’s wrong, babykins? Afraid you’re going to miss breastfeeding?”

“Don’t be a shit, Snape,” one of the other boys called out, a dark-haired guy Remus hadn’t met yet. He was bunking next to James, so he supposed it would only be a matter of time. He liked the stranger on principle.

“Come on,” the bully - Snape, he surmised - went on. “What kind of sissy takes a photo of his parents to the army? A hot chick, sure, but mummy and daddy? Fucking pathetic.” He rounded on Remus again. “I don’t know why the army bothers wasting its money on you posh English nancy-boys. Fucking moffies, the lot of you.”

“Hey, Snape,” James called out from the other bed. “What’s smaller? Your dick or your IQ?”

“ _My_ IQ?” Snape bit back. “I know what I need to know, you fucker. I know how to line up a rifle to a kaffir’s head-” he mimicked taking aim on the black-haired boy who’d come to Remus’s defence earlier, “-and shoot. I know,” he turned to James, “how your mother likes it.” This elicited a few barks of laughter from the rest of the room. “And I know that no namby-pamby mommies boys will make it out of here alive.” This last was directed at Remus, who suddenly had a bright idea.

“Look, I’ll trade you for it,” he said, walking over to his cupboard and digging the magazine out from the bottom of his bag. He held it out, and Snape’s eyes lit up as he took in the naked lady (nipples tastefully obscured by a text block) on the cover.

“All _right_ , Soutie,” he said, leering. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

“Lupin,” Remus said, hating the nickname. “Or Remus, if you must. Now give it back.” He shook the magazine a little to emphasize his point: this was a trade, not a gift.

And dear God, how bizarre was it that he even had a pornographic magazine? He remembered the look on his father’s face, a mix of guilt and concern and something else, as he’d pressed it into his hand the night when he was packing. 

_Didn’t want your mom to see,” he’d said, “But I got you something to take with you.”_

_Remus took the magazine, equal parts disgusted and amused. He had no interest in looking at naked women, thank you very much. Not that his father had any way of knowing that._

_“Just in case,” he’d simply said. “For… ammunition.”_

Remus had been a little confused at his father’s words at the time. Now he wondered if his old man hadn’t perhaps understood more than he let on.

Snape, predictably, was happy to sacrifice the photo to get his hands on the illicit material, and Remus soon had his treasure safely stowed away in his wardrobe. He flopped down on his bed and shot James a grateful look for his attempt at a rescue, and then had to stifle a chuckle when James shot a look at Snape and mouthed ‘wanker’, flexing his wrist in an unmistakable gesture. 

Remus looked away from James, lest he burst out laughing, and caught the eye of the other boy, the black-haired one who had also tried to get Snape to back off. He shot him a hesitant smile too, not sure how it would be received. The boy just responded with a slight quirk of one corner of his mouth and an infinitesimal nod, before he turned onto his back and closed his eyes.

*****************************************************

Remus learned a lot in the first few days of Basics.

He learned that in the Army, they were nobodies, and were treated as such; he learned just how far he could push his body, far beyond what he thought its breaking point would be; he learned that showing any form of weakness, no matter the provocation, painted a big red target on your back. 

He learned that the army was a heartless place, as their Lieutenant made clear on the first day.

“Forget everything you think you know,” he yelled at them, standing on parade with their rifles held at arm’s length in front of them, muscles trembling with the unaccustomed exertion. “In the army, you are nothing. You are not human, you are scabs. Bloody, pussy, worthless scabs. You are less than the dogshit on the sole of my shoe. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lieutenant!” They shouted in unison. One of the earliest lessons they learned was that agreement was the only safe response to anything an officer said.

“Our job is to turn you into men, but fucked if I can do that with the shit they’ve given me to start with,” he went on. “But we have to try, scabs, because South Africa is in the deep shit. So listen up! Communism, laziness, faggotry, kaffir sympathies, and any form of undermining - these will not be tolerated! If you act like the enemy, you will be treated like the enemy! Understood?

“Yes, Lieutenant!

“And what do we do to the enemy, sergeant Carrow?” he yelled at the ghastly man from the previous night.

“We cure them, Lieutenant,” Carrow responded.

“And how do we do that? The Lieutenant asked.

“The only fucking way that works,” Carrow replied with an evil smile. “We send the fuckers to hell!”

And he learned, to his dismay, that sergeant Carrow would be in charge of their basic training. And the man was a stone-cold sadist.

He seemed determined to make everything just a little bit more difficult than it really needed to be, cursing and shouting insults all the while. Sit-ups weren’t just sit-ups, they had to be done while clasping a great big block of concrete to your chest. Push-ups were done in full travel kit, heavy backpack in place. And woe betide them if Carrow thought they weren’t counting along loudly enough, or lifting up high enough; he would simply start his count back at one. 

And he pounced on any sign of weakness. 

Toward the end of one particularly gruelling day, Remus’s elbow gave way while doing push-ups, causing his shoulder to dip halfway down to the ground before he could recover. It was a small stumble, one that may have gone unnoticed if not for the fact that Carrow was standing right in front of him when it happened.

He got a boot-full of sand kicked in his face for that little fumble. And when he lifted a hand to wipe his eyes, he got another boot, this time to the shoulder, that sent him sprawling in the dirt. This time he knew better than to show any sign of protest and complaint, he just ignored his screaming muscles, resumed his position, and doggedly continued with the exercise. Carrow turned away with an indignant huff. 

“Again! One!”

\---

“Shitting fuck,” James hissed that night, wincing as he pulled off his shirt in the bathroom.

Ah yes, another one of the army’s little tortures: communal showers, to be taken as and when the officers decide. No chance of sneaking off for a solitary shower when they were empty.

“No talking in the showers, you arsefuckers!” one of the corporals yelled.

Remus lowered his gaze to the floor in front of him, a habit ingrained by many years of practice.

_He was around 12, 13 when he first started noticing it. Or them, rather. Boys. He knew his friends at school were all going gaga over the netball girls in their short skirts, but it had never really sparked his interest. He supposed it would still happen for him, so he shrugged it off and focused on his schoolwork._

_It wasn’t till they were on holiday that year, at some caravan park whose name he couldn’t remember, that it started making sense._

_He’d been swimming all morning, and his mother had called him to go rinse off and get ready for lunch. In the bathroom, all the shower stalls were occupied, so he just leaned against the wall, waiting for someone to step out. The stalls didn’t have doors, just walls dividing the cubicles, since you weren’t actually supposed to remove your clothes._

_That was the first problem._

_Remus found his eyes drawn to one of the boys who was standing with his back to him. He guessed that the boy was maybe a couple of years older than him, the dark hair on his legs suggesting he was already a bit further along the rocky road of puberty. His eyes travelled up the boy’s legs and over the curve of his arse, where his soaking, clingy shorts hid absolutely nothing. The sight made something funny squirm in his stomach._

_Without thinking, he reached down to adjust the elastic of his own swimsuit; the old Speedo was getting a bit small, he’d have to ask his mom to get him a new one._

_“What the fuck is going on here?!” He was suddenly grabbed roughly by the arm by a strange man._

_“Huh? What?” he managed._

_“Are you looking at the other boys? Playing with yourself? You fucking little pervert! Come on, come with me!” The man yanked him along by the arm, ignoring his protests that he was hurting him, and dragged him all the way to the office where the pool managers sat. Remus stumbled along, confused and panicking, not sure what he’d done wrong._

_The lady on duty in the office tried to calm the man down, but there was no stopping him. In the end she went to fetch Remus’s parents, and that didn’t end well either. Insults were yelled, blows exchanged between the two men, and within the hour they were in their car on their way back home, their holiday cut short._

_They never spoke of it again._

*****************************************************

Not everything was violence and physical torture. Some of it was sheer tedium.

Remus didn’t mind the chores much. Cleaning his kit, disassembling and oiling his rifle, tidying the barracks - these things allowed for a blessed absence of thought and, if they were lucky, a bit of friendly conversation. He’d even befriended a few more of his roommates - There was Peter Pettigrew, a short, stocky boy with an infectious smile and a seemingly bottomless stash of cigarettes. Frank Longbottom and Arthur Weasly, two easygoing sorts of chaps who’d buddied up on the first day in much the same way as Remus and James had.

And then there was Sirius Black, the guy who’d stood up to Snape on Remus’s behalf that first night. Sirius, who kept mostly to himself, but gravitated to Remus and James whenever they had some downtime. Sirius, who had an acerbic sense of humour that often came out when they were chatting, but who also gave Remus the softest smiles whenever their eyes met. Sirius Black, who was, in Remus’s opinion, the living embodiment of perfect male beauty. Not that he allowed himself to look, much. But he could enjoy moving around somewhere in the other man’s orbit.

No, he didn’t mind doing chores with the guys he was starting to think of as his friends. Didn’t mind it one bit.

But the training videos they made them watch were another story. Dear God. Self-important men droning on and on about the need to defend their women and children from the dangers of communism and the Swart Gevaar lurking on their borders, pontificating on the nobility of their quest and the importance of the army’s work.

“Can you believe this shit?” James mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

Remus bit down on a snort. 

“I mean,-”

“Potter, shut your fucking trap!” came Carrow’s voice. Remus saw James’s jaw twitch.

Afterwards, Carrow called James to the front of the room. “You had something to say, Potter?” he asked snidely.

“No, Sergeant.”

“Are you sure? Come on, this is your chance to spill your guts. Speak up!”

James remained silent, standing to attention, gaze fixed in the middle distance somewhere.

After about a minute of this, Carrow snapped. “Right, you miserable lot,” he said. “I want you in the yard, in full kit, in two minutes flat. I’ll teach you to fuck around.”

Their punishment turned out to be a ten-mile run through the bush, carrying all their gear. It was dark by the time they got back to camp, exhausted and starving.

“Welcome back, ladies!” Carrow sneered. “Let’s all thank Potter for this opportunity.”

“Thanks, Potter!” they all chorused; no-one wanted to risk Carrow’s wrath by defying him.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all hungry and thirsty after your little run? Hmm?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” they chorused.

“Well, come on. Get out your mugs! Fall in formation!” he gestured to a table where two steaming urns were standing. “Have some lovely coffee and soup here for you.”

The shuffled to attention, holding their mugs, eyes darting to the shining silver urns.

Carrow stepped up to one and filled his own mug, releasing the delectable savoury aroma of soup into the night. Remus felt his mouth water. True, it was almost certainly just horrible powdered stuff, but right now it seemed like the nectar of the gods.

“Hmm, hmm,” Carrow took a sip and sighed in satisfaction. 

Then he stepped up to the urns and opened both taps.

They looked on with expressionless horror as coffee and soup poured out onto the ground, leaving nothing but a muddy mess. They knew better than to move without permission.

“Well?” Carrow snapped after a while. “What are you waiting for? Fuck off to bed!”

*****************************************************

Carrow didn’t get any better as the days went by. If anything, he got worse. He had a few troops that he particularly liked to pick on.

Like the pimply kid, whose name Remus still didn’t know.

“Why are you shaking, Pimplepussy? You got funcking ants up your arse?” They had just come back from a run, which had followed their morning PT, and were standing on parade.

“Tired, Sergeant,” Pimply managed.

“Tired? TIRED?” Carrow’s face turned red. “Fuck, what are you, a goddamn grandma? Drop and give me twenty!”

The poor boy looked like he was about to cry, but he stepped out of line obediently and started doing push-ups.

“Count out loud!” Carrow snapped at him.

As Pimply started counting, breathless with exertion, Carrow stomped off in search of his next victim. He came to a stop next to Sirius.

“How ‘bout you, Pretty Girl?” he sneered. “Are you tired?

“No, Sergeant.”

Carrow looked closer. “Black,” he spat, staring at Sirius from the side. “What the fuck am I looking at?

“My ear, Sergeant,” Sirius replied, keeping his eyes dead ahead.

“You think you’re funny, Black?” Carrow yelled. “What the fuck is that in your ear, eh?” The _‘you know what I’m talking about’_ was unspoken, but clear.

“A hole, Sergeant,” Sirius replied. 

Remus had noticed the piercing before, during one of his stolen glances. He admired Sirius’s nerve at the time.

“A hole? A fucking hole?! And what do you put in this hole, Black?” Carrow demanded.

Sirius swallowed audibly. “Nothing recently, Sergeant,” he said.

Carrow stepped back, looking around. Finally his gaze settled in the distance.

“You see that tree over there, Black?” he asked, pointing at a tree some hundred metres away.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Go fetch me a leaf off that tree.” Sirius hesitated for a moment. “The fuck, are you back already? Move, I said!” 

Sirius ran off.

Carrow took the opportunity to turn his attention back to Pimply. “What are you up to?”

“Thirteen,” he huffed out as he completed another push-up.

“Just thirteen?! Fucking ridiculous. Better make it fifty.”

Pimply looked ready to collapse, but he knew better than that. He just kept on going.

Meanwhile, Sirius had returned with his leaf. Carrow grabbed it from him and inspected it. “This is the wrong leaf, Black,” he said. “Go fetch the right one.”

Bloody hell. How long would he keep that sadistic little game up for? Probably until the tree was stripped bare, Remus guessed.

Carrow turned to the rest of the squad. “Do you feel sorry for your little friends, hmm?” he asked.

“Yes, Sergeant!”

“Would you fight for them? Would you die for them?”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

For once, this turned out to be the wrong answer.

“Are you fucking insane?” he shouted. “Look at Pimplepussy here, stupid inbred sack of bones that he is. He won’t make it, not in a million years. He’s too weak, and too slow, and too fucking stupid.”

Through this all, Pimply was stoically continuing with his exercises, hissing out his counts through clenched teeth.

“This,” Carrow went on, gesturing at Pimply, “this is what the army rejects. He’ll end up cooking meals and cleaning toilets for the officers back at headquarters, probably, until the army spits him out in disgust.”

Remus privately thought that that didn’t seem like such a bad deal, actually. Far less chance of being shot at. But he understood the disgrace that would entail.

Carrow turned to find that Sirius was back, this time holding a whole branch full of leaves.

Carrow looked at him incredulously, then grabbed the branch. Before anyone had time to blink, he hit Sirius through the face, twice. Sirius stumbled back in surprise and fell to the ground. 

“You think you’re fucking clever, Black?” Carrow shouted, apoplectic. He landed a few more blows on the kneeling boy. “You think you’re a fucking smartass. Who the FUCK said you could puke on my parade ground, troop?!” This last bit he screamed as Sirius heaved up, vomiting from sheer shock and pain. They hadn’t eaten since before sunrise, and even then it wasn’t much, so at least it was more of a trickle than a gush.

“Put your fucking puke back in your stupid mouth,” Carrow sneered at him, and Sirius retched again, spitting up stomach acid and bile.

“I said, PUT. IT. BACK.” Carrow punctuated each word with another blow from the branch. When Sirius made no move to comply, he straightened up, regarding the troops balefully.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” he said darkly. “You’re dismissed. Except for Black.” He shot Sirius a dangerous look. “He’ll be staying here with me until he learns his manners.”

\---

Hours later, Remus was sitting outside the barracks with Peter and James. They were cleaning their rifles and passing a cigarette back and forth, idly humming the tune of _Sugar man_ as they worked.

Then James looked up as something caught his eye. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Remus whipped around to see what he was looking at. It was Sirius, only now returning to the barracks, still in his full kit. He walked with the tread of a man who is staying upright through willpower alone, his feet dragging, shoulders slumped.

He looked absolutely wrecked.

“Shit, he's only back from Carrow now?” Peter voiced the shared, unspoken thought. “What the fuck?”

Remus was already getting up. “I’ll just, uh, go check on him,” he said vaguely, hurrying off.

He found Sirius laying face-down on his bunk, shoes and pack and all, as if he’d just fallen forward the moment he got close enough to the bed.

“Hey,” Remus said softly.

Sirius jerked up in panic, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Hey,” he replied, sinking back down.

“You okay?” Remus asked.

“Sure,” Sirius said, but there was no conviction in it.

“What-”

“Leave it, Remus,” Sirius cut him off.

“But-” Remus tried again.

“I said fucking leave it!” Sirius snapped, and buried his face in his pillow again.

“Sirius, please,” Remus tried. “Talk to me.”

No response. Remus sighed.

“Okay, well. We’re just outside, if you want to join us. For a smoke, or whatever.”

More silence.

“All right then. Um.”

Remus turned and left.

Sirius never did join them.

\- 

That night, in the showers, Remus didn’t miss the blood streaking the water at Sirius’s feet. He wanted to look up, make sure his friend was okay, but he didn’t dare. Not in the showers, not ever. He forced himself to look only at the floor.

*****************************************************

Training was getting easier, in some ways. The squad were learning the ropes, getting used to working together. The PT was as gruelling as ever, and Carrow didn’t get any less brutal, but familiarity had started to dull the edges a little.

Until they were called to the parade ground one day.

They stood to attention as usual, but there were two troops that stood apart, facing the group. A tall, skinny, dark-haired guy and a shorter freckled one. Remus didn’t know their names; they were part of a different squad, and he hadn’t seen them more than in passing, but his heart clenched in sympathy regardless.

They looked like they’d already been to the war, and been on the losing end to boot. Their faces were bruised, bloody in places, and the tall one had a large open cut above his right temple. Judging by the blood staining their clothes, Remus guessed that their injuries extended further down their bodies too. The shorter of the two men had his eyes closed and was trembling uncontrollably, but the taller one stood defiantly - shoulders back, head held high, gaze fixed in the distance - but it was painfully clear that he, too, was barely holding his composure.

It must have been something serious, since the Lieutenant was there to address them. Perhaps there had been some sort of enemy attack?

“We all know,” the Lieutenant began, “that God does not make mistakes.”

_The fuck_? A religious lecture, now?

“We are each of us made in his image. And when some choose to defile that image in the most disgusting, revolting ways imaginable,” the Lieutenant shot a look at the pair in front, “it is our duty as men, as soldiers, to punish them. To set them back on the right path.”

What? This was some sort of punishment? For what?

“These two are moffies,” the Lieutenant announced. “Godless animals, lawbreakers, filthy disgusting creatures. We will not allow it!”

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._ Remus’s thoughts started to spiral in panic, even as he maintained his stoic outward facade. 

“What are they?” The Lieutenant demanded.

“Moffies!” came the reply

“I can’t hear you?!” 

“Moffies!” the shout was louder this time

“What?”

“Moffies!”

“What?”

“Moffies!” 

“What?”

“Moffies!” 

\---

“What were their names?” Remus asked while they were lying in their bunks that night.

“Bester, I think, and… something or other,” Frank said.

“Williams,” Arthur supplied.

“I heard Smith caught them in the toilets,” Snape supplied. “Saw two pairs of feet, in the same fucking cubicle. Opened the door, and there they were, kissing, and… stuff.” Disgust dripped from his voice. “Apparently the sergeants took their pillows, filled them with gun parts, and let everyone beat the shit out of them.”

“Fucking hell,” Remus breathed, sick with shock. “And now? What happens to them now?”

“Ward 22,” Frank muttered.

“Jesus,” James whispered.

“What’s ward 22?” Peter asked, voicing the question that was on the tip of Remus’s tongue.

“Loony bin,” someone piped up.

“Psych ward at 1-Mil,” James clarified.

“Well,” Snape said with a jeer. “If you’re crazy, you’re crazy.”

The atmosphere was heavy as they settled down for the night. Remus had no idea what exactly went on in Ward 22, but by the tone of James’s voice, he knew it would be nothing good. Terror gripped him, and he resolved to keep his secret hidden from everyone, no matter what.

\---

The next day was Sunday. Which meant chapel.

“Our Lord and heavenly father,” The preacher began his prayer, “we come to you in humility, to bow before your infinite wisdom…”

Remus tuned out the preacher’s droning voice, his head bowed but gaze flitting across the seats in front of him. He found it hard to keep his eyes shut during prayers these days, found it hard to prostrate himself before any god that approved of the likes of Carrow. If there really was a god, and if he was a god of love and mercy like the preacher’s prayers were suggesting, then it sure as hell wasn’t the god they were worshiping in this army. 

He was surprised, yet not, to note he wasn’t the only one not praying along. Sirius was sitting diagonally in front of him, and he appeared to be scribbling on the wooden pew next to him with a ballpoint pen. Remus couldn’t make out the words, so he leaned forward a bit. The movement must have caught Sirius's eye, because he tilted his head ever so slightly, raising an eyebrow just a fraction. Remus held the gaze, trying to communicate that he wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t rat out his friend. Sirius relaxed and turned back to the front as the prayer wound down, shifting his leg to cover whatever he’d been doodling.

*****************************************************

A few days later, they were digging trenches. And not one long trench, but a series of short angled circumflexes, two men to a dugout.

A part of Remus wondered what the point was. They weren’t exactly in a warzone, no-one was going to attack them out here in the middle of the eastern Transvaal. There was absolutely no reason to have battle-ready trenches.

But the larger part of him knew exactly what the point was: teaching them how to dig trenches for when they needed to do it for real, building strength and fitness, and just a little bit of making them suffer. Okay, maybe a lot of making them suffer.

Carrow pulled up in his Jeep mid-afternoon, when most of them were already waist-deep. 

“Now that's starting to look like trenches,” he said approvingly. Remus was sincerely shocked at the almost-compliment.

Carrow looked up at the clear, pale-blue sky. “I know it doesn’t look that way, but there’s a storm coming,” he said. “You lot will stay in your trenches during the night. I don’t care if you fucking drown down there, if I see you outside your hole before sunrise I will fucking shoot you. Understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” they chorused.

Carrow nodded, got back in his Jeep, and drove off. Of course he wouldn’t be sleeping out here, the bastard.

Remus and Sirius shared a glance - some weird twist of fate had endured that they were paired up. Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow, and Remus, not sure what he was being asked, just shrugged.

“You really think it will rain tonight?” he asked later.

“I fucking hope not,” Remus replied.

It rained.

They sat in the trench, covered as far as possible by the not-quite-waterproof groundsails from their packs, slowly getting soaked by the water pooling on the ground. Neither boy spoke, each lost in his own world of misery, wet and cold, aching and exhausted.

At least the rain storm didn’t last long, blowing itself out after a couple of hours, but not before thoroughly soaking everyone in its path. It was dark by the time the rain finally abated, and they got ready to settle down for the night. Remus peeled his wet shirt off, knowing it would just chill him further, and reached out for his sleeping bag.

“Ah, fuck,” he exclaimed when, to his dismay, he found that it was wet through. It must have been lying under a particularly bad leak in the makeshift roof.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Sleeping bag’s soaked,” Remus replied, dropping down on the floor despondently.

“Mine’s dry enough,” Sirius offered. “Share?”

Remus was tempted, but a brief glance at the bruise still staining Sirius’s chest reminded him that this particular mistake could have very serious consequences.

“I’ll be fine,” he said with what he hoped was a brave smile. Sirius didn’t look convinced. 

Remus curled himself into a ball where he sat, wrapping his arms around his legs (still encased in hit equally sodden trousers) and tried not to shiver. It wasn’t entirely successful.

“Remus,” came Sirius’s voice, softly. He glanced over. “C’mon, Rem. You’re being silly.”

Remus took a deep breath. He was wet, and exhausted, and fucking freezing; that was the only possibly explanation for why he was being so stupid. He stood up and looked around: he couldn’t see anything but tarp-covered trenches, not a soul in sight, the officers’ quarters nothing more than a vague smudge of light far in the distance. Seemed safe enough.

He ducked down and moved toward Sirius's bedroll. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said, pointing at Remus’s dripping trousers. “You’ll get this wet too.”

Remus sighed, but pulled them down, leaving him in only his underpants. He shuffled over self-consciously, not daring to make eye contact, and settled on the end of the bedroll, his back to Sirius and as far away from him as possible while still being able to pull the zipped-open sleeping bag over himself.

It wasn’t quite enough. Another shiver ran through his body, and it was all he could do to stop his teeth chattering.

“Rem,” Sirius murmured. “You’re freezing. You can lie closer.”

He gave up and shuffled back a bit. Not close enough that they were touching, but close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off Sirius’s body. It was entirely too intimate, and Remus’s whole body felt taut with tension, with the effort of stopping himself from just falling backwards against Sirius’s chest. He wanted it more than he’d even wanted anything in his life, and it was an indescribably terrible idea.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

“Rem,” came another whisper a few moments later. He ignored it. 

“Rem,” Sirius repeated, a few seconds later.

This time Remus turned around to face Sirius, intent on asking him what the hell he wanted, but the words died in his throat when he met Sirius’s gaze. In the moonlight, his eyes were the colour of the clouds that had so thoroughly drenched them earlier, almost shining in their intensity. Remus met their stare, entranced, no more able to look away than a charmed cobra. A whole conversation passed in that gaze, wordless questions and answers and declarations. Remus felt seen, felt _known_ , in a way he never had been before, and for once it wasn’t terrifying. It was… reassuring. The unspoken message of _we are the same, we want the same things, we are in this together._

Slowly, hesitantly, Sirius brought his hand up between them. Remus noticed the muscles in his jaw tense and relax, heard the nervous little catch in his breath. 

_What was happening?_

Keeping eye contact the entire time, Sirius’s hand kept moving, inch by careful inch, until his fingertips were resting ever so lightly on Remus’s cheekbone. Remus’s breath caught in his chest; never before had a touch felt quite like that, like electricity and fire. Just three, four tiny points of contact, but he could feel it thrumming through his whole body. 

Gently, so very gently, Sirius’s fingertips grazed along his temple, around the shell of his ear, along his jaw and across his cheek, stopping just before they reached the corner of his mouth. A careful exploration, filled with unspoken questions and a tender yearning that couldn’t be spoken out loud.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50866870487/in/dateposted-public/)

“Beautiful,” Sirius whispered, almost soundlessly, before he placed his hand on the side of Remus’s face, palm resting on the angle of his jaw, fingertips gently scratching at his hair. Sirius closed his eyes with a happy little sigh, leaving his hand exactly where it was as he settled down to sleep.

Remus kept his eyes open a little longer, taking the opportunity to study Sirius’s face at close range. The dark lashes resting against his cheek, the shadow of his beard just beginning to show at his jaw, the slightly crooked line of his nose.

The perfect curve of his mouth.

Remus wanted to touch. More than anything, he wanted to feel Sirius’s skin under his fingertips, wanted to feel the scratch of his stubble on the palm of his hand and the plumpness of his lips against his own.

But he didn’t dare. He just lay there, all but curled in on himself, and looked his fill until exhaustion overtook him.

\---

They didn’t speak of it in the morning, as they packed up and marched back to the camp in silence. Nothing changed in the way they interacted in the days following; they trained and ate and hung out with their friends exactly like they always had. Remus could almost, almost believe that nothing had happened, that it had all been a dream, if not for the way he felt as if his entire world had shifted under him. And in the rare moments when he caught Sirius’s eye, he knew it wasn’t one-sided. There was an unspoken agreement between them now: we’ve got each other’s back.

“You alright?” James asked, as they sat together on a bench outside the barracks, sharing a cigarette.

Remus looked up from where he’d been nervously flicking his lighter on and off. “Aren’t I always?” he tried to shrug off the question. He stared into the distance and took a deep pull of his cigarette. He studiously ignored James’s gaze boring into the side of his face.

He was so not all right.

“I need the toilet,” he muttered, getting up, seized with a sudden desire to be anywhere else. To keep up the appearance of his excuse, he did actually enter the white standalone building, and was relieved to see that it was deserted. He walked over to the furthest stall, closing the door behind him, and sagged down on the toilet seat. 

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he was a mess. How long could he go on like this, hiding who he was, silently pining from afar? The answer, of course, was forever. There was no point in risking his own safety, not to mention Sirius’s, by indulging his ridiculous inclinations.

God, Sirius. Remus could see his face in front of him when he closed his eyes, all storm-grey eyes and just the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He could see the bruises staining his chest, blood pooling around his feet in the shower… No. He pushed those thoughts away; they were just a little too close to home. Instead, he brought one hand up to touch his cheek, and echo of Sirius’s, and revelled in the sense-memory of that night.

He missed that touch, so much.

He _craved_ it.

Without him realising it, his body had begun to respond to his daydreams, and he absentmindedly pressed his hand against the throbbing in his groin. _Fuck,_ that felt good. More; he needed more. He hurriedly pulled his shorts down, part of him horrified at what he was doing, but the majority of his thoughts occupied with the all-consuming fire of _yes, dear god, yes._ His right hand worked quickly, almost roughly, while the left covered his mouth to stifle any sounds he might be making. He hadn’t done this in a long while, what with the shared showers and sleeping in barracks.

It wasn’t long before his pleasure crested, the release of tension leaving him loose-limbed and panting. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall with a happy little smiling, enjoying the tingling rush of satisfaction.

It lasted all of ten seconds before the guilt set in. What the hell did he think he was doing? Wanking in the toilets in broad daylight was bad enough, but doing so while fantasising about another man? Unforgivable.

Disgusted with himself, he grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned himself off as best he could. Then he stormed out of the stall, only to find, to his horror, that Peter was standing at the urinals.

“Careful, Remmy,” he said with a chuckle, “You’ll make your dick fall off.”

Remus was mortified. He’d been caught! But at least Peter seemed, at worst, amused at his embarrassment.

“Speaking from experience, Petey?” he muttered as he hurried past. Peter’s bright laugh did a lot to ease his tension.

*****************************************************

Sirius was playing volleyball. Without a shirt.

To be fair, so was James, and Peter, and most of the rest of their squad were walking around similarly attired, but Remus hardly noticed them. Really, could anyone blame him, with the sheer perfection of a topless Sirius Black bouncing around the place?

Their first weekend off was coming up, and the guys were discussing their plans for enjoying their freedom in-between hitting the ball around. This mostly involved seeing their existing girlfriends back home or finding someone pretty and ‘shagging till they pass out’. Clearly, Remus wasn’t the only one with some unresolved sexual tension. Difference being, the other guys could go out and do something about it.

Currently, James and Sirius were teasing Peter about his plans to pull some pretty blonde chick that worked in the cafe back home, and the poor guy was getting increasingly flustered with their needling. Remus decided to throw him a rope.

“How ‘bout you, Black?” he shouted, since Sirius was the only one who hadn’t talked about his weekend plans. The fact that Remus was desperately curious about him was beside the point. “You got anything exciting planned?”

“Nah,” Sirius said nonchalantly. “Go home, eat, sleep. Swim in the ocean. I’ll just be glad to get away from these ugly fuckers.”

Half the group looked affronted, while the other half burst out laughing.

“You know, I’ve never swum in the ocean,” Remus mused. He’d grown up in the inland Cape, on the edge of the Karoo, but despite its relative proximity to the beach his parents somehow never had the time (or money, he suspected) to travel down to the coast.

“Really?” Sirius said incredulously.

“Yup. Might not look it, but I’m a straight-up farm boy.”

“Wow.” Sirius looked at him. “Maybe we’ll go down to the beach sometime, huh?” he said. Remus had the distinct feeling that even though the invitation was phrased to include the whole group, Sirius was speaking to him and him alone. His stomach did a funny squirmy thing at the thought.

“Yeah, maybe,” he murmured.

Their game was interrupted by the sounds of shouting from behind one of the barracks buildings. A group of men came running into view, still in full uniform, too far away to make out their faces.

“Bester!” one voice rang out. “Bester, stop!” came another

Remus felt his heart rate skyrocket. Wasn’t Bester one of the guys who…

“Bester!”

Yes, it was him, Remus could see as he came closer. He was running ahead of a half-dozen others who were calling out to him in panic, swinging a rifle around, a crazy, hunted look in his eyes.

“Bester! Put down that fucking gun!”

Remus and his friends instinctively raised their hands as the rifle pointed in their direction, but then, before anyone could so much as blink, Bester tilted the barrel up, tip under his chin, and pulled the trigger.

-

The mood in the barracks that night was tense. Though they wouldn’t show it, the episode with Bester had rattled everyone. Unfortunately, this tension found a rather unhealthy outlet in a testosterone-fuelled game of spin the bottle. And not the fun kind where you kiss, but the kind where you throw punches until the first blood was drawn.

And of course the bottle landed on Remus when Crabbe, one of the biggest, ugliest buggers in their group was on the floor. He sighed internally and resigned himself to a pummeling as he squared up. He was an okay fighter, but Crabbe had the advantage in size, reach and sheer brainless aggression. Peter, who’d gone before him, had been sent off with a split lip.

But then fate intervened, and Crabbe started bleeding from the nose. One of Pete’s punches must have landed, then. Thank God, Remus thought as he stepped up to spin the bottle.

And then he wanted to swear. Because of course, _of course_ , it landed on Sirius.

“I’m not playing, guys,” Sirius said disdainfully, but the squad weren’t about to let him off that easily, so he reluctantly got up and got into a fighting stance.

He locked eyes with Remus, his face blank, and jutted his chin forward in invitation. Remus gritted his teeth and shot forward, landing a right hook to his jaw. Pulling the punch, because hurting Sirius felt wrong in every imaginable way.

“That the best you can do?” one of the guys shouted. “You hit like my little sister!”

“Told you Loopy is good for nothing,” Snape sneered from his seat on the floor.

“Come on, put up a proper fight!”

Their voices rose to a chorus, egging them on, and it was as if a red mist rose up over Remus’s mind. He was suddenly furious; furious at himself, furious at the army and it’s brutality, furious at Bester for killing himself. And furious at Sirius, for waltzing into his life and stealing his heart and making it all so very, very unbearable.

“Yeah, Rem,” Sirius said, taunting him. “Come on. Hti me.”

He let the rage well up in him and struck out again, landing a tidy blow - not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough force to send Sirius tumbling to the floor.

His breath came in gasps as he looked at Sirius lying there, betrayal written in every line of his face. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was replaced with anger, and Sirius was leaping at him, pinning him down, raining down blow after blow. Remus almost couldn’t bring himself to struggle; heaven knows, he deserved every single bit of pain Sirius chose to inflict on him.

Their barney was cut short by the door being flung open, Carrow standing there with fury radiating from every line in his body. They scrambled to stand to attention at the feet of their beds.

Carrow strolled up and down the lines, inspecting every face. About half of them had blood staining their faces and shirts from wounds to their noses or lips. Carrow didn’t seem overly bothered by this; in fact, Remus thought privately, he probably enjoyed it, the psychopath. When he got to Sirius, he regarded his uninjured face with disdain. 

“Black,” he spat out, the first word he’d said since entering the room. “Report to my office.” with that he turned on his heel and stomped out.

Remus wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. They had all been fighting, and Sirius certainly wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten his face bloodied. So why the hell, then, was Carrow picking on him?

They all stood in silence as Sirius walked out, head down, not saying a word. But Remus didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hands as he passed.

*****************************************************

Remus heaved his pack onto his back. He was dressed in uniform - not the usual training kit, but the slightly more formal street uniform, on his way to a weekend of freedom. When someone shouted from outside, they all hurried out of the room to board the personnel carrier that would take them to the station. Remus made to follow, but stopped at Sirius’s bed.

He was lying on his back, out of uniform, idly playing with a misshapen piece of metal, face carefully bland even as his eyes occasionally flicked up to watch the movements in the room. Carrow’s punishment of choice for the other night had been to ground Sirius for the weekend, robbing him of the one thing they had all been looking forward to for weeks.

“You gonna be okay?” Remus asked as the others bundled out of the door.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, affecting nonchalance, but Remus could see the cracks in his mask.

“Maybe we’ll go to the beach next time,” Remus said, trying to lighten the mood a little. An olive branch. An _I’m sorry, for hitting you, for getting you in trouble. I wish it didn’t have to be like this._ Sirius just gave him a charged look.

Then he got up off the bed and walked over to Remus. There was a question in his eyes, but Remus had no idea what it could be. He just looked back, fighting the urge to squirm under that penetrating gaze.

To his surprise, Sirius walked right up to him, until they were almost touching, and after a moment’s hesitation, leaned in and planted a single soft kiss on Remus’s lips. There and gone before he knew what was happening.

Everything in Remus froze. It was…

_He was fifteen when he kissed a girl for the first time. Not because he particularly wanted to, but she’d been keen and he had hoped that, maybe, it would help him understand what the other boys were going on about. Maybe he would enjoy it, maybe it would fix him somehow._

_It had been… underwhelming, to say the least. Uncomfortable, unnatural, like kissing your great aunt at Christmas._

_The girl was into it, though, judging by way she was pulling him closer and opening her mouth to him. But when he felt her tongue press against his still-closed lips, he knew he couldn’t do it._

_“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away from her as gently as he could despite the rising panic in his chest. “I… I have to go.” He turned and left - fled, if he were honest - without another word._

_He was seventeen, and in the army, before he kissed someone again. This time, it was a man. And this time, it made his world stop spinning on its axis._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50866870687/in/dateposted-public/)

Remus met Sirius’s eyes as he pulled back. He saw fear warring with desire, and he knew it mirrored his own expression.

“It’s all right, Rem,” Sirius said softly. “Go home.”

Remus felt a smile creep over his face.

“Remus, come on, you bugger!” James called from outside.

Remus took one last, long look at Sirius, getting a rare smile in return. “See you next week,” he said, before finally marching out.

The smile didn’t leave his face the entire weekend.


	2. Part 2: How to Break a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of the original story, and the beginning of mine (the last 2 paragraphs or so are my own).
> 
> This chapter still had quite a bit of angst, although it's not as violent as the previous one. I promise the happy stuff will start from the next chapter! (Which was supposed to be just one more chapter, but it's growing at an alarming rate and is now sitting at around 11k words and still nowhere near resolution - why oh why do I do these things to myself?!)
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Not sure if "enjoy" is the right sentiment here, but here you go.

**PART 2: HOW TO BREAK A MAN**

Remus was excited to get back to the base on Sunday. Who could have seen that coming? But there was something to go back for now, wasn’t there? His smile, impossibly, widened even further as he broke into a jog when their barracks came into view.

He knew something was off the moment he stepped inside. Sirius wasn’t there, in his usual spot, lounging on his bed. And sure, he could have been off somewhere, having a smoke or getting some sun, but his bed had a worryingly unrumpled look to it, as if no-one had slept in it for a few days.

“Anyone know where Black is?” he asked the guys who were already there. It turned out no-one had seen him.

“Probably deserted, the coward,” Snape opined.

Remus swallowed down the rising dread and decided to go ask the one person who would surely know: sergeant Carrow. It was a testimony to how badly he wanted,  _ needed _ , to see Sirius, that he was willing to face down a man he considered worse than the devil himself.

“You want something, Lupin?” Carrow asked in his usual brusque manner.

“Sergeant, the troops are wondering what happened to Black.”

“He had a medical issue,” Carrow said, his face carefully deadpan. “He was reassigned.”

“May I ask where, Sergeant?” Remus said carefully.

Carrow fixed him with a glare. “Leave it, Lupin. He’s a piece of shit. I can’t have him fucking up the whole group”

Remus stood there, fighting to keep his composure. Whatever  _ medical issue _ Sirius allegedly had, he was convinced his friend hadn’t left of his own accord. He’d either been taken away or been in such a state that he needed medical care that the base couldn’t offer.

“Anything else, Lupin?” Carrow asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“No, Sergeant,” Remus replied, before turning around and walking away, as calmly as he could, determined not to betray any of the turmoil that was raging in him.

\- 

That night, when Peter revealed a stash of strong booze he’d snuck in from home, Remus didn’t even think of refusing. If it could make his thoughts stop circling like vultures around the ghost of Sirius Black, he would take it, consequences be damned.

\--- 

After Sirius left, training passed in something of a blur. With Sirius gone, and Pimply long since invalided, Carrow seemed to switch targets every day. Everyone got a heaping helping of his wrath, but Remus was sure he got more than his fair share.

When he made the slightest mistake, Carrow would be there, yelling insults in his ear. Whenever he stumbled, he would get a kick to the side or shoulder or face. After a while, he didn’t even pay it any heed. The constant cursing became a sort of background buzz, the aches and pains from various cuts and bruises just another part of life. He would bleed, and not even bother to wipe it away. What was the point? Why risk showing weakness?

He dreamed of Sirius sometimes. It felt like drowning, like he was thrashing around in murky water with the surface nowhere in sight. On a good night, there would be a hand reaching out to him, pulling him up, wrapping him in strong, safe arms. 

On a bad night, he would swim and struggle until he found Sirius, not alive and smiling, but floating lifelessly, pale and bloated from the water.

_ Ek voel fokkol  _ became their motto.  _ I feel fuck-all _ . The unofficial slogan of the army. Feeling was a liability, a weakness, an invitation to further suffering. Pain, joy, fear, hope, anger - all of it was squashed down, ignored until it fell silent. If you allowed yourself to dwell on it, it would overwhelm you, and that was a sure way to attract Carrow’s wrath.

Remus had no idea how he made it through. But he did.

*****************************************************

Finally,  _ finally _ , they reached the end of their basic training. They had survived three months of sheer hell, and were set to escape from Carrow and his sadistic reign over their lives. There was a downside, though: they would be escaping to the Angolan border, to fight in the war against the communist threat from the north.

They had a last free weekend before they would head out to Namibia, so the squad had decided to go for a jol: go dancing and get drunk, chat up some girls and generally enjoy their last bit of freedom.

Remus, to his surprise, was actually having fun. He wasn’t particularly interested in the gaggle of girls they were dancing with, but he was enjoying bopping along to the blaring disco music, pleasantly buzzed from the beer he’d been drinking all night. He determinedly did not think of Sirius.

That was, until James made a passing remark while they were in the bathroom.

“I hear Williams’s back,” he said, as if apropos of nothing.

“Who, the guy who was in Ward 22?” Remus asked. As if he didn’t know exactly who James was referring to.

“Yeah,” James said. 

“Wow. Okay,” Remus took a moment to process this. “Do you think he might-”

“-know if Sirius is there?” James finished the sentence for him. They had both speculated on what had happened to Sirius, and Ward 22 was one of their leading theories. “Probably. Worth a try, right?”

“Right.” Damn. He needed another drink.

\- 

Back at camp, as soon as he’d done all the compulsory packing and paperwork for the border tour, Remus set off to find Williams. It took a bit of asking around, but he finally located the man in his barracks, lying on his bed facing the wall.

“Williams?” he asked.

“What do you want?”

“Can we talk somewhere?”

Williams didn’t say anything, just got up and followed Remus to a secluded area behind one of the buildings.

“So?” he asked once they were alone. 

Remus didn’t quite know how to frame his words. Williams looked so fragile, like a man barely holding himself together, clinging on to the last shreds of his dignity by his fingernails.

“Look,” Williams said defensively, wrapping his arms around himself. “whatever you want to do to me, I can promise you, somebody else has already done it, so... ”

Remus took in the still-livid scar on his right temple, the fresh bruise along his neck, his cowering stance. Fuck, did he think Remus wanted to hurt him?

“No, no,” he hastened to reassure the man. “It’s just… You were in Ward 22, right?”

“Oh-kay, I’m leaving,” Williams began, pushing himself up from where he was slouching against the building.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” Remus explained. “I need to know if he’s there.”

“Better fucking hope not,” Williams muttered, slumping against the wall again. 

“His name is Sirius Black,” Remus said.

Williams took a long shaky drag of his cigarette, and blew the smoke out nervously. “Never heard of him,” he muttered, but he wouldn’t meet Remus’s eye. Remus was certain he was lying.

“He is, isn't he?” he prodded.

“Fuck, what do you want me to say?” Williams said with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, he’s there, okay. With the psychos and the addicts, miserable as all hell when he isn’t drugged up to his fucking eyeballs.”

Fuck. It was true. Remus felt like he could cry with the realisation.

“Listen,” Williams said. “You don’t want to go there. Take my advice, and do everything you can to stay invisible.”

“I’m not like you,” Remus spat, shoving Williams against the wall, terrified at the prospect of being found out. He stormed off.

As he walked, his mind conjured up image after image of what was happening to Sirius. He imagined those beautiful grey eyes filled with tears, staring unseeing at the ceiling, falling closed never to open again…

His breath came faster and he picked up his pace, wanting to run away, hide, go anywhere that would offer him a respite from the pain clawing up through his chest.

He walked blindly until he found the first empty building, which happened to be the chapel. He stumbled down the aisle and dropped into one of the pews - the pew where Sirius used to sit, his brain helpfully supplied. He looked down, and sure enough, there were words scrawled on the seat, the black ink almost invisible against the dark wood.

_ Even birds are chained to the sky. _

As he ran his fingers over the letters, he felt the tears start to fall.

*****************************************************

The border was a whole other story. Weirdly, things seemed a lot more relaxed than at the training commando. True, they were greeted by the sound of gunfire, but it turned out to be a sentry shooting his semi-automatic rifle in the air just for kicks, swinging it around one-handed like some sort of action hero. “Kip-kip-kip,” he called to them, as if they were a flock of chickens.

The commander, when he showed up, certainly didn’t look like any officer Remus had ever seen. He was unshaven, barefoot, with his shirt halfway unbuttoned and a makeshift bandana tied across his forehead Rambo-style. The sergeant accompanying them (thankfully not Carrow; the bastard had been left in Middelburg to torture the next round of recruits) tried for a salute, but the senior officer waved him off.

“Welcome to the funfair, ladies,” he greeted them, looking over his new troops. “My men might take a little time to warm up to you, so I suggest you pitch your tents way over there. Water tank in the back, toilet under the nearest bush. Bury your shit or I’ll make you eat it. Oh, and I almost forgot: the neighbours.” At this the commander gestured to a makeshift camp where a group of black people - natives, presumably - were held captive. Remus let his gaze sweep over them. Women, children, old people - they certainly didn’t look particularly threatening.

“Right, men,” the sergeant interrupted the commander’s guided tour. “You heard the man. Go set up over there, and report for orientation in an hour.”

As they trooped away, Remus noticed the man slinging his arm over the sergeant’s shoulder gregariously, gesturing expansively at the scenery as he talked. What a strange man.

-

Active service turned out to be both easier and harder than Basics. Easier, because they were exempt from Carrow’s psychopathic PT regimen; they just went out on their patrols every day (or night, depending on the luck of the draw), and spent the rest of the time in camp, filling their hours with whatever pleased them. But harder, too, because there was no escaping the fact that they were in an active war zone. This meant that there was a constant threat of danger, the ever-present possibility that someone could step on a land mine or a guerilla soldier could spring out of the bush and gun them down. It was nerve-wracking to say the least.

Remus nearly had a heart attack on the first patrol, when they were pulled to a halt by a rustling in the dense reeds lining the river. 

“Lupin, Potter,” the sergeant hissed, “guns at the ready and follow me.”

They followed at the sergeant’s flanks, nerves taut with tension.

“Hands in the air!” the sergeant yelled as he pushed through the final barrier separating them from the sound. James and Remus followed, rifles cocked and ready to fire, only to be met with a group of… kids.

They couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Still, the sergeant searched them, and when they were shown to be clean, chased them off.

Remus heaved a deep sigh, suddenly shaky as the adrenaline washed out of his system.

\---

A few days later, after dinner, Remus was walking idly back to the sleeping tent when he happened upon none other than Williams, sitting with another man behind one of the makeshift buildings, tucked neatly out of sight. Fuck, he hoped Williams wasn’t getting up to the same business as last time; he didn’t look like he could survive a second beating.

But no. As Remus drew nearer, he saw that the other man had a medic’s insignia pinned to his uniform, above the nametag reading  _ Jones _ , and he was injecting something in the crook of Williams’s elbow.

They caught sight of Remus, and Williams gave his companion a small nod as if to say  _ he’s okay, I know him. _

“Hey,” Remus said to Williams, frowning slightly. “You okay?” Williams gave him a disbelieving look, as if to say  _ when the fuck have I ever been okay? _ Which Remus could concede was a fair point.

“Did you want some?” Jones asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Some what?” Remus replied, confused.

Jones held up a glass vial. “Morphine,” he said.

“Oh. No, thanks,” Remus declined. “I’m not in pain.”

Williams gave him a wry smile as he pulled up another dose into the syringe, and Jones shook his head with a humourless laugh.

“We’re all in pain, boet,” he said, plunging the needle into his own arm. “Some of us are just… passing the time.”

Remus turned and walked away. 

He still couldn’t look at Williams without thinking of Sirius, wondering what he was going through, whether he was okay. Had he been sent home, or was he still in Ward 22 - or even worse, back at the commando, under Carrow’s heel? It was difficult to believe anything hopeful, and the pain of it twisted like a knife in his gut every time.

Or like a drill sergeant’s boot to the head.

Was that what Jones meant? About all of them being in pain? Remus certainly was. But he suspected it was not the kind of pain morphine would help for.

\---

They had been at the Border for less than a month when Remus saw his first death, a pair of guerilla soldiers shot down on a routine patrol. It rattled him, but not too much; after all, it was kill or be killed.

It was quite a bit longer before someone died at his own hand, his own gun. That was a lot harder to deal with.

They had been on a night patrol, something Remus always hated. No matter how short or uneventful the night’s trip was, it always left him exhausted. Even after months of experience, the dark and the eerie silence had them jumping at every little sound. And these moonless, cloudless nights were the worst, the darkness so thick that you could almost grasp it in your hands.

That night, they were following fresh tracks, hoping to root out a cell of guerilla soldiers. The tension was even higher than usual, knowing that the enemy was probably near.

“There, movement,” someone suddenly hissed, pointing up the hill ahead of them. 

“Good,” the sergeant hissed. “Crabbe, Weasly, follow me. Keep low. The rest of you, wait for my signal.”

They laid low in the bushes, eyes scanning the edge of the hill ahead of them, desperately looking out for any movement or glint of metal.

When they reached the top of the hill unscathed, the sergeant gestured to the rest of them to follow. They did, as stealthily as they could, every sense on high alert for any sign of danger.

It was almost a relief when the first shot rang out. Almost.

The squad responded, and three gunmen were taken down in short order. They all breathed a sigh of relief; it was business as usual, so far.

Then Peter pointed to the left of them. “I think there’s another one over there,” he whispered, gave a few cautious steps in that direction… and suddenly a fireball was lighting up the night. He’d stepped on a landmine.

Peter’s gut-wrenching screams and the panicked commotion of the squad drowned out the sergeant’s shouted orders of “Hold the line!”

And then Remus saw him; a man in a dark blue t-shirt, lying concealed in the grass just a few metres away from him, aiming a gun at the sergeant with a deliberate look on his face. Training and survival instinct took over, and within moments he’d shouldered his rifle and pulled the trigger. 

Maybe that was what all the abuse and dehumanization in basic training was all about, he would muse much later, when he was trying to process the events of the night. It turned you into a man who would, at the drop of a hat, shoot another man just because he wasn’t wearing the right uniform.

The shot was a dead hit, right in the heart. Remus walked a few steps closer, morbidly fascinated by what he’d just done. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, the hissing in his ears drowning out every other sound as he locked gazes with the other man. He watched in shocked silence as the other man, the hated enemy, took his last, rasping breaths, eyes wide with panic, hands clutching uselessly at the ground below him.

When the man’s head finally lolled to the side and remained still, Remus turned back to his squad. Sound came rushing back at him as he beheld a scene of absolute chaos.

“Peter!” James was yelling. “Petey, breathe, you stupid fuck! Breathe!” Arthur was gripping James by the shoulders; Frank was wordlessly pounding at the earth next to him. The rest of the squad were standing around in stunned silence, or slumped on the ground. Even Snape, heartless bastard that he was most of the time, had his face buried in his hands.

They only got back to camp at dawn the next morning - all of them trudging wordlessly, except for one, who was carried on a stretcher and deposited in the medical tent, but not for treatment. Remus didn’t even bother going to his tent. He dropped his kit and stuck his head in the water trough until he almost drowned, trying to get rid of the images playing like a film behind his eyelids. And when that didn’t work, he went looking for Jones.

-

Remus wondered why he hadn’t wanted to try the morphine before. Fuck, it felt  _ fantastic _ . The world went all soft around the edges, sparkly and tingly and altogether friendlier than it usually was.

The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day. He should enjoy it. Yes, that was it. He should get a suntan.

He grabbed his sunglasses and set off, eventually lying down on one of the tarps that were spread out here and there in the camp.

He was just nicely comfortable when he sensed someone standing over him. He whipped off the sunglasses and looked up, only to see Carrow squatting next to the tarp.

He should probably have felt more surprised, but the drug made his emotions feel like they were buried under five layers of cotton wool. So he just gave the man an inquisitive glance.

Carrow looked at him, his jaw clenching and unclenching, lip tensing to stop a tremble. There was something very strange about his expression; if Remus didn’t know better, he’d say the man was trying not to cry. A couple of times he looked like he was about to say something, but then he snapped his mouth shut again. And then, he gave a sad sort of wink-nod-thing, stood up without a word, and walked away.

Well, Remus thought vaguely. That was weird. Even for a hallucination.

*****************************************************

Things did not get better, much. But at least they did, eventually, come to an end. It was with a sense of immense relief that Remus disembarked from the final train, right back at that little station he’d set off from two years ago.

His mother came running up to him and immediately wrapped him in a hug, laughing and crying and babbling about how glad she was to see him, how handsome he looked in his uniform, how he was all grown up. He returned the hug with interest, almost lifting the shorter woman off her feet. God, he’d missed her.

“At ease, soldier,” came another wonderfully familiar voice behind him

“Dad!” he spun around and, ignoring the outstretched hand, enveloped his father in a great big bear hug. He was shocked at how small his father seemed; had he lost weight? But no, he was wearing the same Sunday suit he’d had for probably a decade now, and it fit as well as always. Remus supposed he’d filled out more than he realised during the past two years.

“So,” his father asked him later that evening. “How was it? The army?”

“It was fine,” Remus responded shortly. He really wasn’t ready to go rummaging through that particular Pandora’s box of painful memories.

“And the Border tour?” his dad asked, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“Okay,” Remus said. “Hot, dusty. Long. But I made it back alive, so that’s something,” he answered drily. Some of them didn’t, he recalled. And some never even made it as far as the border. Bester. The still-nameless Pimply.

Sirius.

“You wanna talk about it?” his dad asked, perceptive as always.

“Not really,” Remus admitted. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” His dad gave him an understanding look before he got up and went out of the room, leaving Remus alone with his thoughts.

As they so often did, his thoughts turned to Sirius. He had to find out where he was, find out what had happened to him. He had to see him.

A few phone calls later, he had the information he needed: the address of Sirius’s parents’ home - down in George, a good three hours away by train - and an assurance that he was no longer at the commando or the hospital. No telephone number, though; he would have to visit the house. He could, of course, have a look in the telephone directory, but he chose to ignore that option; the allure of seeing Sirius in the flesh was just too great.

He would go tomorrow, take the train down to the coast, and go look him up.

*****************************************************

“It’s good of you to have come,” Mr. Black said as they sat in the living room, drinking tea and making uncomfortable conversation. Remus nodded silently. Sirius had still been sleeping when he arrived, even though it was nearing noon, but his mother had gone to chase him out of bed, before coming back down and offering tea and biscuits.

“When did he get back?” Remus asked carefully.

“Three weeks ago,” his mother answered.

Jesus. That recently? How long had they kept him there? More to the point, what the fuck had they been doing with him all that time?

Remus didn’t have a chance to think about it too deeply, because there was a shuffling in the hallway, and Sirius stepped into the room.

“Hi,” he said softly, nervously, the expression on his face not quite a smile. Remus felt something in his chest light up and expand.

Sirius looked… different. His hair was longer, for one thing, flopping over his forehead haphazardly, and he was sporting a short beard. Instead of the sleeveless black tank tops he’d favoured before, he was dressed in a loose grey button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He was beautiful, still, so very beautiful, but he also looked a bit… off. He was thinner than Remus remembered, his skin pale except for the dark circles under his eyes, and his beard looked more like the result of not bothering to shave for a week than a conscious fashion choice. 

He was still the most wonderful thing Remus had seen in a little under two years.

“Hi,” he said, rising to his feet, a smile involuntarily spreading over his face. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Sirius said, the merest ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes sad and shuttered.

They shook hands, a bit awkwardly. Remus would have preferred to gather Sirius in his arms and never let go again, but since Sirius’s parents were still in the room he made do with giving his hand an extra squeeze before dropping it.

Sirius looked out the window, a bit awkward . “You, um, wanna go for a drive?” he asked hesitantly.

“Sure,” Remus agreed easily. He would go wherever Sirius liked, especially if it meant they could be alone. “Lead on.”

The drive, it turned out, would be more of a ride: Sirius didn’t have a car, he had a big black motorcycle. Remus couldn’t really complain, since riding pillion would give him an excuse to wrap his arms around Sirius’s waist.

“So, where are we going?” he asked as he buckled his helmet.

Sirius just gave him a mysterious little smile. “You’ll see. Hop on.”

They followed the coast road, endless blue ocean unrolling to the left of them. Remus had no idea how long the ride was; not long enough, he reckoned, considering he had to let go of Sirius again when they stopped.

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw where Sirius had brought them: a small, secluded beach with a perfect little cove between two outcroppings of rock.

“Said I’d take you to go swimming in the sea some day,” Sirius said, something like a real smile appearing on his face for the first time.

Remus laughed, clear and joyful. “Perfect,” he said.

They walked down to the beach, stripped down to their underwear, and ran across the sand like a couple of kids, diving into the shallow water.

“Fuck,” Remus spluttered, gasping for breath. “That’s cold! Jesus!”

And there it was, a proper, full chested laugh. It transformed Sirius’s entire being; he had looked beautiful before, sure, but now he was absolutely breathtaking.

“Arse,” Remus said, and splashed him. Sirius splashed him back.

They hovered in the icy water, still laughing and trying to catch their breath. Remus tore his eyes away from Sirius with some effort and looked around him.

“It's paradise, this,” he observed. He wasn’t just talking about the scenery, and he wondered if Sirius knew.

“Sure is,” Sirius agreed .

Remus glanced over at him, unable to help himself, and found that Sirius was staring right back at him. Their gazes caught, held, the moment stretching out into a subjective infinity between them. Remus was pulled back in time to a cold, rainy night in a trench, the same feeling of nervous anticipation bubbling through his veins.

He felt himself being drawn to Sirius, caught up in his orbit, just like he always had been. He couldn’t have resisted it if he tried, but oh, he was so tired of trying. Slowly, carefully, he reached out a hand, brushing his fingers along Sirius’s forearm under the water.

And Sirius pulled away.

Remus wondered if it was unintentional, just a result of how he was moving his arms to stay upright in the water. But then Sirius seemed to draw in on himself, like a snail retreating into its shell.

“It’s too cold,” he stuttered, chin trembling, before turning around, diving under the surface and swimming back to shore. Remus didn’t miss the hunted look in his eyes. He hovered in the water while he watched Sirius swim back to the beach as if all the demons in hell were chasing him.

Well, fuck. That had gone poorly.

By the time Remus got back to the beach, Sirius already had his clothes on, and was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees. Remus flopped down on the sand next to him, not touching, but close enough that the smallest movement could close the gap.

“Whoa, that was fucking crazy,” he chuckled breathlessly, trying for lightheartedness, but Sirius didn’t reply; he just stared out at the horizon, shifting around nervously. Remus had no idea what to do, what to say to make things better again. He had a definite feeling that any further touching would be most unwelcome, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say except  _ What’s going on? Why the fuck are you being like this? _ He didn’t need a PhD in psychology to know that that wouldn’t go down well either. 

So he just sat there, looking out at the horizon and occasionally glancing at the man next to him.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50877463627/in/dateposted-public/)

Just when the silence got almost unbearably awkward, Sirius broke it.

“I need the toilet,” he said, scrambling to his feet. Remus nodded vaguely at him and then fell down onto his back, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight warm his skin. It was weirdly reminiscent of his first (and only) morphine trip, except instead of the unwelcome presence of Carrow, there was a gaping hole where Sirius should have been.

It took Remus a good fifteen minutes to realise that Sirius wasn’t coming back. He dressed and made his way back up to the road. Sirius was sitting on the kerb next to his bike, dragging deeply on a cigarette. He exhaled a shaky stream of smoke as Remus sat down next to him, keeping a deliberate distance this time.

“You okay?” Remus asked carefully.

Sirius huffed out a humourless laugh. “Seems you’re always asking me that.”

“Are you, though?” Remus insisted.

“Sure. Always am, right?” 

“Riiiight.” Remus couldn’t keep the scepticism out of his voice. “Now tell me the truth.”

“Fuck, Remus,” Sirius burst out. “Leave it be, will you?!”

A few moments passed in tense silence; Sirius taking another drag of his cigarette

“I can’t do this right now,” he muttered, stubbing out the cigarette end on the tarmac and getting up. “Come on, let’s go. Drop you off in town?”

Remus could tell his welcome was over, so he got to his feet resignedly.

“Yeah,” he said, “That’ll be fine.”

*****************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie ended at the part where Remus is left alone on the beach - you can see why I couldn't leave it there, right??!!
> 
> Let the fix-it commence!


	3. Part 3: How to Pick up the Pieces...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're through the worst of the angst! You made it to the fix-it!
> 
> This part got veeeeery long, so I'm splitting it up into at least 2 parts, possibly 3. We'll see.
> 
> Oh, and I know canon Gellert is an evil bastard. Here he's not. It's the life he and Albus should have had.

**PART 3: HOW TO PICK UP THE PIECES**

Remus was packing. Again. He’d hardly been back home a month, and here he was, getting ready to leave again. Sometimes it felt like his life since he left school was just moving from one temporary place of residence to another.

At least this time he had something to look forward to. At least this time, he was going because he wanted to. He was off to the Transvaal, to start his studies at the Johannesburg College of Education. His mother hadn’t been happy to lose him again so soon after he got back, but what could he tell her? That he was running away from the demons in his own head? That he had to go somewhere where he was no-one, just a face in the crowd, so that he could fall apart and hopefully pick up the pieces of himself in private? No, he couldn’t burden her with all that. He couldn’t even tell her most of it.

He hadn’t gone to see Sirius again, after that day at the beach. He wasn’t about to force his company on someone who didn’t want it. But that was the thing - did Sirius really not want to see him, even just as friends, as casual acquaintances that served in the army together? Or was there something else going on? Remus was almost willing to bet on the latter. Sirius had seemed happy enough to see him when he arrived, and they’d been having fun right up to the moment when Remus fucked it all up because he couldn’t keep his stupid hands to himself. He was almost certain Sirius had fled from fear rather than anything else.

Still. He wouldn’t push it, in case he pushed it too far. So instead of rocking up at Sirius’s house again and demanding an explanation, he’d stopped at the Post Office, and sent a short letter. _Sirius. I’m sorry if I said or did something that upset you. Contact me when you’re ready. I’ll always be your friend. Remus._ He’d added the address and telephone number for his parents’ house, and dropped it in the mail before heading home.

But Sirius never called. He never wrote.

And neither did Remus.

\---

Johannesburg took some getting used to. After spending his entire life in a small farming community, and then at a border post in the middle of nowhere, the noise and bustle of the city was almost overwhelming. But Remus loved it. He loved the lively vibe, loved the way everything was so close together, loved his campus filled with young people all excited about their future.

And he loved his studies. At first, it was difficult getting back into academic work after two years when all his exertions were just physical. But Remus had always been a good student, and being at college reminded him that he had always preferred the library to the rugby field. He soon got back into the swing of things, losing himself in books and classes, completing assignments and tests with the same single-minded determination he’d applied to surviving his years in the army. He was an ace student, and his professors loved him for it.

Of course, the army didn’t leave a man that easily. It showed in small things, like the way his room in the residence was always fastidiously tidy, the way he shaved every morning, even if he wasn’t planning on leaving the residence at all (except for his newly-cultivated moustache, which he thought looked rather spiffy), the way he ate whatever food the cafeteria decided to dish up without a word of complaint. And every morning, rain or shine, bitter cold or suffocating heat, he went for a run.

The running was his therapy. It was the only time when he allowed himself to dwell on the past, to remember and regret and wonder _what if_. Some days he let himself get angry, let the fury push him on to run further, faster. Some days he cried as he ran, and the run turned into more of a dejected shuffle, tears mingling with sweat to leave wet trails down his cheeks. And some days, when it all got too much, he just ran, pushing his body to the limit until his mind became blessedly empty of every thought except the pounding of his feet and the burning in his lungs. 

\---

“Hey, Remy, you have any plans for next weekend?”

Remus clanced over to Marlene where she was sprawled on the sofa in her flat, Remus sitting on the floor with his books spread out on the coffee table. Remus had met Marlene in class on the first day and immediately recognised a kindred spirit. It took them all of a week to become fast friends, and they’d been living in each other's pockets for the last six months. At this point, he spent more nights sleeping in her flat than in his own room in Res.

“I don’t believe so,” he said. “But why do I have a feeling you’re about to change that?”

“Perceptive, clever boy,” she teased.

“More like you’re predictable,” he retorted. “So, what’s up?”

“You remember I told you Dorcas got a spot in that exhibition at the Goodman?”

“Oh, yeah,” Remus answered. “How’s that going?”

“It’s opening next Friday evening,” Marlene said. “Wanna come?”

“And be your beard, you mean?” he teased without rancour. Remus was one of the few people who knew that Dorcas was more than Marlene’s best friend. Over the last few months he’d often played the part of Marlene’s love interest to help them allay suspicion. He knew she’d do the same for him in a heartbeat. It was a perfect arrangement, since there was no risk of either of them actually developing feelings and making things complicated.

“I think you have that the wrong way around, darling,” she said. “But yes. Will you? There will be drinks and everything.”

“Free booze?” Remus grinned. “You sure know how to catch a man’s interest, Marly.”

“A truly useful skill for a lesbian to have,” Marlene deadpanned. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is.”

“Might even spot a nice young man for yourself, hmm?” she teased, eyes aglint with mischief. “I’m pretty sure an art gallery will have an above-average number of _our type_ hanging around.” She waggled her eyebrows conspiratorially.

Remus sighed. They'd had this conversation so many times. And he understood that it was coming from a place of kindness - his friend was happy and in love, and she just wanted the same for him. But he just wasn’t ready. Doubted he’d ever be, given the potential cost.

“You know I can’t Marl,” he said. “It’s just too risky. And besides…”

Marlene's usually impish features softened. He’d told her about the whole Sirius debacle one night after one too many beers, and ended up crying on her shoulder for what felt like hours and then passing out on her couch for the first time.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders from behind and giving a sympathetic squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning into the hug.

“Don’t be,” she said. “Never. Not for who you are, or who you love.”

*****************************************************

There was, indeed, free booze. Nothing a man could get properly tipsy on, but the sherry on offer was much posher than the stuff Remus’s student budget usually allowed for, and he was enjoying the way it warmed him from the inside.

Currently, he was standing in front of one of Dorcas’s paintings - Marlene had disappeared off somewhere with her girlfriend - and he was wondering what had been going through her mind when she designed this particular set. The series of paintings was entitled _Lovers_ , and Remus was pretty sure it was only the almost-abstract, impressionistic way that she painted that stopped them being banned for outright indecency. There was a lot of bare skin in all shades, and a lot of what was very clearly intimate touches. But what was most jarring, at least to Remus, was how completely androgynous the figures were. There was absolutely nothing to indicate whether any particular body was male or female; if he thought about it, he could convince himself of any possible combination.

It was strangely thrilling.

Currently he was looking at a painting of two sets of hands, entwined and grasping against dove-grey sheets. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out what the owners of those hands were probably doing. And if he thought both sets of hands looked distinctly masculine… well, that was probably his own repressed desires talking, right?

“Lovely, isn’t it?” came a voice to his left. He glanced over to see a middle-aged man with a truly magnificent grey beard, looking at the painting over a set of half-moon spectacles.

“Sure is,” Remus replied. “Very… evocative.”

The man gave a soft laugh. “Indeed. I’m sure those boys are having a great deal of fun out of frame.”

Remus looked at him in surprise. “Boys? You also- I mean, you think they’re both men?”

The man gave him an impish smile, eyes twinkling over his spectacles. “I think we see what we want to see. That’s the beauty of it.” He gave Remus a mischievous wink.

“Right.” Remus grinned. He could feel himself flushing.

The man stuck out his hand. “Name’s Albus, but you’re welcome to call me Al.”

“Remus Lupin,” Remus said, returning the handshake. 

“Ah, one of the founding brothers of Rome," Albus mused. "Or should we say Reme, if you’d won that particular fight. The rise and fall of the Remen empire, the Remen Catholic Church. Has a rather nice ring to it, actually.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “Touche. But I assure you, I wasn’t raised by wolves. Although you’d better believe my mother can bare her teeth when she sees fit.”

“Albus Dumbledore, you old reprobate!” Dorcas greeted them as she appeared around a corner, Marlene in tow. “Bothering my friends and corrupting innocent young minds again, are you?” 

“Dorcas, darling!” Albus greeted her with a warm hug. “So good to see you. Remus and I were just admiring your lovely painting of these two fine young men.”

“Men?” Marlene snorted.”Like Dori would-”

She was silenced by an elbow to the ribs from Dorcas.

“Men, women, one of each - who cares? It says more about you than it does about me,” Dorcas commented. “And on that note, where’s Gellert tonight?”

“Oh, he’s around here somewhere,” Albus replied airily. “I believe he went searching for some more sherry, but he must have gotten lost on the way.” Albus craned his neck and scanned the room. “Oh, there he is. Yoohoo!” he waved at someone in the distance.

Remus noticed a man approaching them, presumably this Gellert they were talking about.

“Gell, darling, come meet my new friend,” Albus said. “This is Remus Lupin, who seems to be a friend of the artist. Remus, this is Gellert, my… associate.” Albus winked as he said this.

“Associate? Really, Albie?” Gellert asked, glancing at Albus with one raised eyebrow even as he shook Remus’ hand. He was a handsome man, with hair that may have been white-grey or may have been just a very pale shade of blonde, and piercingly ice-blue eyes. “Have I been demoted? Planning to replace me with a younger model?”

“Never,” Albus said, and the two men shared a smile filled with such fondness that Remus felt like he was intruding on an intensely private moment.

“Right. If you two have stopped oozing saccharine all over the gallery floor,” Marlene said, and Dorcas giggled, “I need to steal Remus away.”

“Of course,” Albus said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Remus not-raised-by-wolves Lupin. You must come over for dinner sometime.”

“I would be delighted,” Remus said with absolute sincerity.

\---

Three weeks later, Remus was in the car with Albus and Gellert, on their way to a bar in Hillbrow.

After the gallery, Albus hadn’t forgotten his parting comment, and invited Remus over for dinner the next week. And once he was in their home (yes, _theirs_ , not his or his), it was obviously, painfully clear that Al and Gell (as Marlene referred to them) were far more than simple friends. Or even complicated friends. The way they interacted reminded Remus of nothing so much as his parents, with the comfortable familiarity of an old married couple.

“How are you two so… you know?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. “So free, and comfortable? How do you even dare to be together like this?”

“Oh, rest assured, my boy,” Albus said, “We’re only this open to those who we know we can trust. Those who… understand. And I suppose a couple of decades rather takes the edge off the anxiety.”

Remus must have looked surprised at the way he so casually mentioned a couple of decades. 

“You recently came out of the army, yes?” Gellert asked.

“Yes, only last year.”

“And, if I recall, the army isn’t particularly welcoming to our type?” Gellert prompted further.

“No. Not at all.” To this day Remus had to suppress a shudder at the memories: two boys beaten to within an inch of their lives, Bester falling to the ground while the shot still echoed, Williams’ blankly staring eyes that seemed to have no life left in them. Sirius…

No. Not now.

“Well,” Gellert went on, leaning back and taking a sip of his wine. “I think you’ll find that not all of the world is quite so prejudiced. There are… places, for us and ours. Where we can be ourselves. People who understand.”

Remus raised his eyebrows inquisitively. This was news to him.

“What do you say, Albie?” Gellert said, grinning conspiratorially at his partner. “Shall we take him sometime?”

“Butterfly?” Albus asked, and Gellert nodded.

“Ooh, yes; let’s!” Albus looked inordinately excited, and Remus was utterly lost.

But they made a date, and now they were on their way to the Butterfly Bar. Al and Gell hadn’t given him any information besides the name of the bar, and when he asked Marlene she simply burst out laughing before promising him that he was in for a hell of a time. Somehow, he didn’t find that entirely reassuring.

They parked on the street and made their way over to the Harrison Reef hotel, but instead of entering the large glass doors, they took a staircase to the left of the main entrance. The pink sign above it proudly proclaimed _The Butterfly Bar_.

They made their way up the stairs, breathing that peculiar stale-beer-and-cigarette-ash smell common to bars everywhere. The same flashing lights, the same lively music. While Remus was always keen for a night out with his friends, he didn’t understand what was so special about this place.

That is, until he stepped inside.

There were men. Like, everywhere. Men talking to each other, holding hands, dancing together - his attention was momentarily arrested by a man gyrating shirtless on the dance floor - and dear God, were those two kissing? Just like that, out in the open? What strange parallel universe had he wandered into?

Albus’s hand on his arm pulled him back to planet Earth.

“So?” his eyes twinkled. “What do you think?”

“It’s - um - it’s. Wow,” Remus stammered incoherently.

Gellert chuckled. “I think our boy’s a bit overwhelmed, Albie. Get us some seats in the lounge, and I’ll grab some drinks, hmm?”

“Sure thing, love,” Albus sent him off with a kiss on his cheek, and turned toward the seating area, dragging Remus in his wake.

It turned into one of the most interesting nights of his life. After the initial shock wore off, Remus began to enjoy the whole atmosphere; so many men who had nothing in common except the fact that they, like him, were ostracised for who they happened to love. And there really were all kinds, from Afrikaner boerseuns who would not have looked out of place in a John Deere advert, to drag queens so camp they could probably be seen from space, and everything in-between. It was liberating and thrilling in a way nothing else in Remus’s life had ever been.

They just sat in the lounge that night, sharing a handful of drinks while Al and Gell explained the ins and outs of the Joburg gay scene to him. A couple of good-looking guys even tried to flirt with him, and even though his gay godfathers (as he was beginning to think of them) spurred him on, he rebuffed their advances. He wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

Yet.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d be back.

*****************************************************

Remus collected his mail from his cubby as he entered the residence building - his mother had been forwarding everything that showed up at the house for him. Today, her parcel included a very smart cream envelope, addressed to him in fancy curly calligraphy. He carefully pried it open, curious to see what was inside.

_Euphemia and Fleamont Potter_

_request the honour of your presence_

_at the marriage of their son_

_James Potter_

_to_

_Lily Evans_

Remus’s mouth dropped open. James was getting married? He’d known about James’s high school sweetheart, of course - they all had; he hardly shut up about her. They were awfully young, though. Still, perhaps he should have seen it coming; the few times he’d spoken to James since they parted ways, it had always been _Lily this_ and _Lily that_. He grinned and made his way to the bank of payphones in the lobby, dialling the number on the card.

“James, you old dog!” he said, when his friend answered. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Hey, Remus,” James chuckled. “I take it the wedding invitation arrived?”

“Yep,” Remus confirmed. “Congratulations, man! You’re leaving the rest of us behind here, being all grown up and getting married.”

James chuckled. “You know it was just a matter of time. Fate just happened to… force my hand a little, as it were.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Don’t spread it around, but.. Lily’s expecting.”

“What? James, that’s… huge,” Remus said.

“Yeah,” James said, and somehow Remus could hear his smile even through the phone. “Isn’t it awesome? I’m gonna be a dad!”

Remus didn’t think it was particularly awesome - or at least, he would be devastated if it were him in the same position - but James seemed genuinely thrilled. 

“That’s fantastic, James,” he said sincerely. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful father.”

“Thanks, Rem,” James said. “Anyway, that’s why we had to move things up a bit. But it’s December, so you should be done with college for the year, yes? Oh, please say you’ll come!”

Remus chuckled. “Of course I’ll come. I’d come even if it was right in the middle of term.”

“Great, I’ll put you on the list, then,” James said. “Will you bring someone? Some lovely lady that’s caught your eye?”

Remus’s stomach sank at the reminder of what everyone in his life (except for four people - five if he counted Sirius) didn’t know.

“I’ll see if Marlene can come with me, maybe she’ll fancy a trip to the Cape. I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Sure thing. Oh, and I know Plett is a ways away from home for you, so you guys can stay over at my parents for the night. Bloody beach house has more rooms than they know what to do with anyway.”

“Fantastic. I’ll see you then?”

“Sure thing. And remember to let me know about your date, we need to make sure we keep her a seat.”

“Of course. Bye, James. Give my best wishes to Lily.”

“Will do, mate. Cheers.”

\---

Marlene was, of course, thrilled at the prospect of a little vacation in the Cape.

“How do I look, darling?” she said, twirling around so that Remus could take in the entirety of the wine-red off-the-shoulder dress. Objectively speaking, she was stunning.

“Far too pretty for the likes of me,” Remus joked. He was dressed in the only suit he owned, a rather plain brown thing. At least he’d been able to find a decent red-and-gold tie to match Marlene’s dress.

“Nonsense,” Marlene said. “You’re as handsome as any man there, I’ll bet.”

Remus couldn't help but laugh. “As if you’d know an attractive man when you see one.”

“I have eyes,” she said, feigning offence. “I’m not blind. Just because I don’t want to kiss them doesn’t mean I don’t like looking.”

Remus smiled, his heart overflowing with gratitude for his quirky friend.

“Thanks again for doing this, Marl,” he said. “You saved me a world of drama, honestly. Especially if any of the other guys from our squad are there.”

“Anything for you, my faithful companion,” she said, patting his cheek fondly. “Now, isn’t it time we get going, if we don’t want to be late?”

-

Remus should have seen it coming. He really should have. He’d said it himself, after all: _if there are other guys from the squad there_. 

He hadn’t expected to see the one who’d dropped out of the squad before they’d even finished Basics.

“Fuck,” he hissed, when the dark-haired stranger he’d been discreetly admiring from behind turned a shade to the left and his profile clicked into place. “Fuck fuck _fuck._ ”

“Hey, you’re hurting me,” Marlene admonished; he’d clamped down on her arm in sheer shock. 

“It’s him,” he hissed.

“Who?” Marlene asked, understandably confused.

“ _Him!_ ” Remus said emphatically, gesturing with his chin. “Sirius.”

“Sirius?” Marlene’s eyes grew wide. “As in… Oh, fuck, Remus. What do you want to do?”

“Run?” he suggested. “Hide? Die?” He wasn’t remotely prepared for this. Nevermind the fact that even a few months of meditation and a shot of chemical courage probably couldn’t have prepared him for this moment.

Because Sirius was still. So. Fucking. Beautiful.

His cheeks had filled out a bit since Remus last saw him, and his skin had a healthier colour. The scruffy beard was gone too. His hair was still long, though, hanging almost to his shoulders now, and he was dressed in a dove grey suit that hugged him beautifully in all the right places, hinting at a well-built body underneath - it was the reason Remus had been checking him out in the first place.

And then he turned, and for the first time in a year, Remus looked into those pewter eyes.

He tried not to hyperventilate as Sirius brushed off the girl that was trying to talk to him and walked over, holding eye contact all the time.

“Remus, hi,” he said by way of greeting, when he was finally standing in front of him. It may have been Remus’s imagination, but he sounded a little breathless.

“Sirius,” Remus answered, and he was pleased that his voice didn’t waver. Much. “What an unexpected surprise.” He remembered his manners. “This is Marlene, she’s my-”

“Friend,” Marlene cut him off. “Classmate. Sister, really. He kips on my couch and steals my tea and pretends to be my boyfriend when I need one.”

“Charmed, I’m sure?” Sirius said, sounding understandably confused, but shaking her offered hand nonetheless. 

“Oh, I just remembered, I have to go look at the… thing… over there,” Marlene said, with all the subtlety of a halfbrick through a window. Remus shot her a glare, but she leaned over and kissed his cheek, taking the opportunity to whisper _You can thank me later_ in his ear.

Remus had no idea what to say. None of the things he’d said to Sirius in the privacy of his own head over the last eleven months were suitable for public display.

“So,” Sirius said, breaking the awkward silence. “She seems nice.”

“She is,” Remus said, glad for a topic he could comfortably talk about. 

“So are you two…?” Sirius asked.

“God, no,” Remus snorted. “She meant it when she said she’s like a sister.”

“Not your type, then?” Sirius teased, and there was a hint of that playful smile he used to wear, once upon a time. And that was just bloody unfair, wasn’t it? That he could make Remus’s heart clench with just the barest quirk of his lips. He would be furious if he wasn’t still so attracted to this git. As things stood, it simply left him annoyed.

“I think you know very well what my type is, Sirius Black,” Remus said, a bit more sharply than he’d intended. “Wouldn’t be wearing a dress, for a start,” he added in a mumble, softly enough that he was sure only Sirius could hear.

Sirius huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

They stood for a few moments, awkward, neither one sure how to navigate a conversation anymore.

“I should probably get back to…” Sirius gestured vaguely in the direction of the group he’d left behind.

“Yeah, of course,” Remus answered, oddly grateful for the reprieve. “I’d better go find Marlene. Make sure she hasn’t gotten into the champagne yet.” He chuckled nervously.

“But we’ll talk later? At the reception?” Sirius added so hopefully that Remus couldn’t do anything but agree.

“All right, then,” Sirius said, giving him a last glance over his shoulder as he walked off.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck!_ Remus wanted to scream. _How the fuck can you still be so hung up on a guy who kissed you once, three years go, you pathetic idiot?_ he berated himself. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t kissed anyone else in the meantime; further visits to Butterfly, and a few other places, had seen him lock lips with more than one handsome stranger. But one smile from Sirius, and he was all melty and gooey like a teenager with his first crush. Bloody ridiculous.

He needed to find Marlene. Find a bottle of vodka. Possibly find the emergency exit.

Instead, he found James, shifting around and looking as if he was about to burst with excitement.

“Hey,” Remus said, putting his own emotional crisis to the side for the moment; it was his friend’s big day, after all, and he wouldn’t spoil it with his drama. “You’re looking smart. Bet Lily will come sprinting down the aisle once she catches a glimpse of you.”

James grinned. “That’s kind of you to say. But I think if anyone will be sprinting, it will be me. Make sure she doesn’t get away.”

They shared a laugh. Remus remembered that it had always been this way with James - easy, comfortable, like a brother or a bosom friend.

“So, I take it you’re looking forward to being a husband?” he asked.

“Fuck, yes,” James beamed. “Say, have you seen any of the guys? Arthur and Frank are here, and Sirius. Didn’t invite Snape though, stupid arse.”

“I saw Sirius,” Remus answered. “I, um. Wasn’t aware you still had contact?”

“Yeah, we ran into each other a while after we got back, and started hanging out. Poor guy was in a bad place.”

“Yeah,” Remus said weakly. “I guess that makes sense. What with...” He didn’t need to elaborate.

“Yeah,” James said. “But he’s better now, I think. Not quite fine, like he was before. But... better.”

They stood in silence for a moment, shared memories hanging heavy in the air between them.

“Anyways, I’m supposed to be chasing you lot into the church,” James said suddenly. “So if you’d be so kind, Mr Lupin.” He gestured to the chapel with a bow and a wink. 

“Of course,” Remus said. “Let me just go see what happened to my date.” 

-

It was the longest bloody wedding service in the history of matrimony, holy or otherwise, of that much Remus was sure. In a cruel echo of their seating arrangement in the army chapel, Sirius sat off to the side and one row ahead or Remus. But this time, his hands were clasped quietly in his lap. No clandestine messages scribbled on the pews.

_Even birds are chained to the sky_.

Remus’s mind wandered as the preacher droned on about the holiness of sacred love and the sanctity and purity of marriage, blah blah blah. Part of him wondered how he kept a straight face with Lily’s belly making a very visible bump in her dress. He would bet that this particular love was not as _‘pure’_ as the preacher would have liked. And yet, anyone with eyes could see that James and Lily were the real deal.

_Even birds are chained to the sky_.

Cynics might argue that James was the one being chained here, ensnared in a lifelong commitment; yet he was smiling like a man who was seeing all his dreams come true. He, bound by the vows of marriage, was like a bird in flight, while Remus, ostensibly unfettered, could never be truly free.

_Even birds are chained to the sky_.

He wondered if Sirius still felt that way - trapped, boxed in, never truly at liberty to be who he was. Things were better for Remus, now. He’d discovered a new world in Hillbrow, under the godfathers’ guiding hands. He still wasn’t free in the way his straighter friends were, of course - he still couldn’t love in the light of day - but he was, perhaps, on a longer chain now. An illusion of freedom, as long as he didn’t try to pull too far from the safe spaces.

“You’re staring,” Marlene whispered in his ear.

Fuck. “Thanks,” he whispered back, and forced himself to look at James and Lily instead. Marlene took his hand and rubbed soothing circles on the back of it with her thumb. He had never loved her more than in that moment.

-

The confetti had been thrown, photos taken, speeches made, and dinner served. Remus had caught up with Frank and Arthur over the meal, because of course James had put the lot of them at a table together. It only made sense, old army mates catching up at a friend’s wedding. And of course Sirius was also there, chatting relaxedly with their old comrades, apparently oblivious to the way he was subtly distorting space around himself. He’d discarded his jacket and loosened his tie, but kept the waistcoat, which was hugging his torso just beautifully. He was far too fucking attractive. Remus wondered if anyone else noticed it, or if it was just him.

Sirius caught his eye from across the table. “Smoke?” he asked wordlessly, miming the action.

Remus nodded, whispering a quick excuse to Marlene, and followed Sirius outside.

They lit up in silence, took a drag. Neither man spoke; neither seemed to know what to say.

“So,” Remus started, letting it hang.

“So,” Sirius echoed.

More awkward silence.

“This is weird, right?” Remus said.

“Fuck, yes,” Sirius said with a relieved chuckle. “I’m glad you said it.”

Remus shook his head with a laugh. Then he threw Sirius a sideways glance. “You look better than… well.”

“Hmm,” Sirius acknowledged, a pained look creeping across his face.

“Listen, Remus,” he added after a moment. “I’m sorry about… all that. What happened. You know?”

“Actually, I don’t think I do,” Remus said, the old familiar hurt welling up in him. “What part exactly are you sorry about? The part where you made me think there was something special between us? Where you kissed me and then disappeared and without so much as a word - you knew you wouldn’t be there after that weekend, don’t even bother denying it. Or maybe you’re talking about the part where you ran away when I came to see you? Or the part where you never bothered contacting me again?” Remus’s voice had been growing steadily harder and flintier as he talked, and by the end he was almost spitting out the words.

Sirius exhaled a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’ve been awful, haven’t I?”

“A bit, yeah,” Remus admitted. “Although I suppose, if we’re being fair, I never contacted you again either.”

“You did, though,” Sirius pointed out. “You wrote, at least. But me… It was… God, I was such a mess, after I came back. You have no idea. But then, by the time I started feeling human again… well, so much time had passed. I wasn’t sure you’d still want to have anything to do with me. Still not sure, to be honest.” Sirius was looking down at his hands fiddling with his cigarette as he spoke.

Remus considered it for a moment. “It was pretty shit of you, yeah,” he said. “But I guess I can understand, in a way. I mean, I could see you weren’t okay. But it hurt, Sirius. Even knowing all that, it hurt.”

“Yeah,” Sirius mumbled. “Yeah, that’s…” he swallowed. “I don’t suppose a ‘sorry’ really covers it, hey?”

“It’s a good start,” Remus conceded. “A ‘sorry’ going both ways, I think.”

Sirius suddenly turned to him, arresting his attention the way he always had. “Can we start over?” he asked. “Try this again?”

“This what, exactly?” Remus asked, cautiously.

Sirius shrugged. “Friendship, I guess. We never got to do that properly, back in that shithole.”

“Just friendship?” Remus asked.

“It’s all I can offer at the moment,” Sirius admitted. Which was fair enough, Remus had to concede. They’d never really had a chance to do things properly, had they? Get to know each other, spend time together just being… people, living normal people lives. Falling in love without the emotional strain of the army dogging their every waking hour.

Bit still. It wasn’t that simple.

“I don’t think we can start over,” Remus said slowly. “Not really, not, like, on a blank slate. There’s too much… history. Too much shit we’ve both been through, too much of each other we don’t understand. But,” he added hurriedly, seeing Sirius’s face fall, “I think we can, perhaps, get to know each other again. Not start over, exactly. But try to figure out where the fuck we left things, untangle all the threads again and pick them up from there. Yeah?”

At this, a smile crept over Sirius’s face. 

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds kinda perfect, actually.”

“One condition, though,” Remus said. 

Sirius lifted his eyebrow inquiringly.

“You won’t disappear on me again, you devil.”

Sirius smiled, tinged with remorse. “I won’t,” he said. “Cross my heart.”

“And also,” Remus added, “you owe me a shit load of explanations.”

“That I do,” Sirius said. “That I do. And you’ll get them, I promise. Just, probably in small doses.”

“As long as you’re planning on sticking around,” Remus said, “I’ve got nothing but time.”

They shared a goofy smile; at least, Remus felt goofy, and Sirius was looking altogether too soft around the edges.

“Shall we get back inside before they send out a search party?” Remus suggested.

“Yeah, let’s.” 

When they got back to the table, James was pouring a round of shots from a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Ah, you’re back,” he said brightly, and started passing the glasses around.

“A toast!” Arthur suggested, raising his glass. “To James and Lily!”

“To James and Lily!” they all chorused before throwing back their shots. It burned pleasantly all the way down.

“Another!” Frank cheered. “Come on, Potter, pass around that bottle!”

The bottle was passed around, the shot glasses refilled.

“What are we drinking to this time?” Remus asked.

After a moment’s thought, James said, “To those who should have been here, but aren’t. Fallen in the line of service. Like Peter.”.

“And Bester,” Remus added unthinkingly, before wincing internally. The others nodded solemnly.

“And Williams,” Sirius added quietly. Remus’s head whipped around. “Why? He made it back alive, didn’t he?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” James said softly. “He died in, when was it, April? Drug overdose, I think it was.”

Remus felt the air leave his lungs in a whoosh. Fuck, had it been intentional? Did Williams _off himself_? He recalled Williams’s face the last time he saw him; he’d known the guy was struggling, but… well, he guessed he assumed things would get better for him once they got home. He suddenly felt guilty that he’d never thought to check in with him again. Maybe, if he’d had a friend…

He met Sirius’s eyes across the table, and saw the same hurt reflected there.

“To the fallen,” James declared sombrely.

“To the fallen.”

This time, the burn of the alcohol was like hellfire.

*****************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and just a random note: all the places I reference (like Butterfly Bar, the Goodman etc) are/were real places, operating at the time. So yes, there were gay bars in Hillbrow in the 80's. Go figure.


	4. Part 4: How to put a man back together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice looooong chapter for you all!
> 
> A bit of sad, and a whole lot of sweetness.

**PART 4: HOW TO PUT A MAN BACK TOGETHER**

Sirius made good on his promise, and they kept in touch, through letters and endless rambling phone calls. They talked about all kinds of things - the few happy memories they had from the army and the shitload of awful ones; what they’d been up to in the year gone by and what they were up to now; their friends and families and plans for the future. Just about anything, really - except Ward 22. It was the-topic-that-shalt-not-be-named. Remus gleaned enough from the odd offhand remark to know that it had been a terrible experience, and he decided not to go poking at that particular wound. Sirius would talk when he was ready. Meanwhile, they could enjoy chatting about less traumatic things, getting to know each other the way they never had a chance to in the army. It was easy, getting to know this Sirius, learning to like him. Remus found himself falling for the man all over again.

And now Sirius was coming to visit. Remus wandered nervously around the flat he shared with Marlene. After his first year, he decided that he’d had quite enough of living in a college residence (far too much like the barracks for his liking), and opted to get a part-time job so that they could go half-half on a flat off-campus. It had been one of the best decisions he’d made in his life. For one thing, Marlene (and, on occasion, Dorcas) made a far better roommate than a hundred or so aggressively heterosexual white males. For another, he now lived slap-bang in the middle of Hillbrow, where like-minded company was never too far away, be it at a pub or just browsing the international section at Estoril books. It meant he could cook food he actually enjoyed eating (oh, what a luxury, to have a kitchen consisting of more than just a kettle!), and decorate the way he liked, and didn’t have to worry too much about odd smells and nasty surprises in the bathroom.

And, perhaps best of all, it meant he could actually invite guests over, without having to go through seven miles of red tape to get permission and then kick them out by nightfall. One of the first things they’d done after moving in was invite the godfathers over for a celebratory dinner, and with the five of them (Dorcas included, of course) crammed in around their tiny kitchen table, Remus was as happy as he could ever remember being in his life.

Which brought him back to his current predicament: Sirius. It had been Marlene’s idea, really; she decided to go visit her parents over Easter, and suggested he invite his friend over to come see the city. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and Sirius had happily accepted the invitation.

Now, with an unknown yet small amount of time until he arrived, Remus was seriously reconsidering. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Sirius - God, there was perhaps nothing he wanted more. But Sirius was…  _ Sirius _ . And Remus was, to his consternation, very much gone on him. Still. All over again.

_ Friendship _ , he reminded himself,  _ that’s what you’re doing. You will behave and keep your greedy little hands to yourself, Lupin. _

He wasn’t convinced that the pep talk was working, but it was the best he could do.

-

And there he was, parking his motorbike in the road, pulling off his helmet to peer at the blocks of flats, looking for the right one.

Remus stared for a moment. Sirius Black in faded jeans and a leather jacket, his hair now long enough to be tied in a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, was a sight to behold; like something straight out of the sexier kind of cigarette advert. Remus felt a flock of butterflies (bats? dragons?) take flight somewhere south of his ribcage. He swallowed them down as best he could and made his way downstairs to the lobby.

“Remus!” Sirius’s face lit up in a beautiful smile as he spotted him, and Remus felt himself respond in kind. Sirius grabbed his one hand in a handshake, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly sort of way with the other hand. Completely friendly, completely appropriate - and yet, the touch burned like a brand.

“Glad you made it,” Remus said. “Come on up.”

He led the way wordlessly - up the stairs, down the passage, through the front door.

“Here we are,” he said brightly as he ushered Sirius inside. “Home sweet home. Kitchen, living room, bathroom,” he pointed out the different doorways as they walked (not that there was far to walk). “My room,” he gestured, “and you’ll be here, in Marlene’s room.”

“Great,” Sirius said, going into the room and dropping his bag. Remus hovered in the doorway as Sirius sagged down on the bed with a groan.

“Fuuuuck,” he said. “I love my bike, but twelve hours at a stretch is pushing it. I’m sure I’ve got bruises on my arse.”

Remus chuckled nervously, trying not to envision Sirius’s arse, bruised or not. That would be entirely counterproductive.

“You must be exhausted,” he said instead. “You want something to drink? Or maybe a shower? The warm water may do you some good.”

“Oh, fuck, yes, a shower sounds glorious,” Sirius said.

“Right, then,” Remus said, beating down the unbidden mental images. Fuck, this weekend was going to kill him. “You do that, and I’ll go and get us some food. Early night tonight?”

“Perfect. Thanks, Rem.” Sirius’s grateful smile warmed him all the way to his toes.

-

They spent most of the next day wandering around Hillbrow - browsing in Estoril books (one of Remus’s favourite places in the city), flipping through the racks of vinyls in Hillbrow Records (Sirius had been like a kid in a candy store, leaving with half a dozen new LPs; Remus wasn’t really into the music, but he had been quite content to feign interest while surreptitiously watching Sirius enjoy himself), looking at all the odds and ends on sale at the flea market. They spent quite a bit of time staring at the drawings and photos pinned up in the window of the dodgy-looking tattoo parlour, speculating on which designs they’d choose if they ever decided to get some ink done (Remus was quite taken with a picture of a wolf howling at the full moon, while Sirius favoured a shaggy black dog with disconcertingly intelligent eyes and a crown of stars - “for my name, you know?”) Remus could only imagine that Sirius would look incredibly hot with a tattoo, but he kept this thought to himself.

Afterwards, they had a lazy lunch at Café de Paris, sitting on the first floor balcony and making up increasingly ridiculous stories about the people passing by down below.

“Now that guy,” Sirius said, pointing to a man in a very smart grey suit. “I reckon he’s secretly working for the Italian mafia, trading in underground Parmesan cheese. See how no-one gets close to him? I bet he smells like old feet.”

Remus giggled. “And what about that lady over there?” he said, gesturing to a woman wearing a voluminous red and purple skirt. Honestly, the thing looked like it could have been designed by an architect. “What do you think she’s hiding under there?”

Sirius gave her a calculating look. “ANC fugitives,” he said. “One clinging to each leg.”

Remus laughed out loud.

“Now that one,” Sirius said, pointing to a woman standing on a street corner; short skirt, high heels, carefully coiffed blonde hair. “I reckon she’s a hooker, waiting for her sugar daddy. Who’s eighty-three, and only has her read Shakespeare to him on account of his heart condition.”

Remus gave the woman a careful look. Oh yes, this was a familiar sight. “Um, Sirius,” he said. “You know that’s a queen, right?”

“A what?” 

“A drag queen.” When Sirius still seemed confused, he added, “As in, a transvestite?” 

“So- Oh!” Sirius’s eyes went wide with surprise as understanding dawned. “That sort of thing… happens, here?”

Remus shrugged. “A bit. More than in other places. Hillbrow is a special sort of place. Besides, the queens are the toughest fighters on the street. They have to be, I suppose. You don’t fuck with them.”

“Jesus,” Sirius said, awestruck. 

“Yeah, it can take you that way in the beginning,” Remus chuckled. “Tell you what, let’s go out tonight. I’ll show you one of my favourite hangouts. Maybe then you’ll understand a bit more about this place and why I love it here.”

“Sounds good,” Sirius said with a grin. 

-

They walked to Butterfly, since it wasn’t too far from his flat. Remus was fairly vibrating with nerves - he was excited to share this part of his world with Sirius, to show him what the possibilities were, but at the same time he was worried that it might be too much, that he might be playing his cards too openly. They had had absolutely no discussions about sexuality, or their love lives, or any of that strange, blurry history between them. It was the big, awkward elephant in the room, and Remus was getting tired of tiptoeing around it. If nothing else, this would make it clear to Sirius which side of the fence he, Remus, came down on - or rather, which closet he resided in. 

They ascended the stairs, the lively music becoming clearer with each step, and Remus breathed in that smoke-and-beer scent that had become so familiar over the last several months. He made sure to keep an eye on Sirius as they went through the door, wanting to see his reaction when he took it all in for the first time. Remus thought back fondly to his own first visit, the sheer awe he’d felt on entering this particular wonderland. He wondered if Sirius would also fall in love with the place at first sight, or if he would be confused at first, the way he had been when Remus pointed out the queen on the street that afternoon.

What he hadn’t expected was for Sirius to panic. But that was exactly what happened; Sirius’s eyes grew wide as he scanned the room, taking in the topless leather-pants-clad man doing shots at the bar, two men making out just to the left of them, and the doorman winking at Sirius with a  _ Welcome, sexy _ . Before Remus had a chance to react, Sirius spun around and raced back down, taking the stairs two at a time. Remus followed, cursing under his breath.

Outside, Sirius set off down the street at speed, seemingly unaware of where he was going but determined to get there as quickly as possible. 

“Sirius!” Remus called out, breaking into a jog to catch up. “Sirius, wait!”

Sirius kept going, only stopping when Remus grabbed him by the arm.

“Sirius, what the fuck?” he asked, a little out of breath. When Sirius turned, he was breathing heavily, tears glistening in his eyes. Remus yanked his hand away as if he’d been burned, and felt his heart break a little. Would he never learn?

“Hey,” he asked, more gently. “What’s wrong? What happened back there?”

Sirius was still breathing too rapidly, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. Remus looked around until he spotted a ledge against one of the buildings that would do as a makeshift seat.

“Come here,” he said, guiding Sirius with cautious gestures, careful not to touch him again. “Sit. Take deep breaths. Want a smoke?”

Sirius nodded gratefully, fumbling in the pocket of his jeans to produce a half-empty packet of Stuyvesants. Remus took out two cigarettes and lit them before handing one to Sirius. He waited while Sirius took the first couple of drags, watched as some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. His hands, though, were trembling as he fiddled with the cigarette, eyes trained on the glowing tip as if it might offer him the answers to all his problems.

“When I was in… in Ward 22... ” Sirius said at last, the sentence trailing off into silence as he took another nervous puff from his cigarette. 

Remus felt his breath catch. Sirius had never talked about this before, had never so much as alluded to it. He made an encouraging humming noise.

“They did this… treatment,” Sirius went on, his gaze now focused somewhere in the distance, his voice disturbingly emotionless. “They called it  _ aversion therapy _ .” Some emotion returned to his voice as he spoke the phrase, bitter vitriol cutting through his words. “I call it torture.”

“What did they do to you?” Remus asked softly.

“Ugh, so many things. They would show me pictures - like, sexy ones, of men. They put on, like, electrodes and monitors and things. And if I showed any… any… interest, there was pain. So much fucking pain.”

“Holy shit,” Remus breathed. 

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. “And then, just now, I looked into that bar… it all came back in a flash. It’s like my whole body was just waiting for the shock.”

“Jesus fuck, Sirius, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Sirius said. “I’m not mad at you. Although, you could have warned me.” he gave Remus a wry smile. “Anyway, in between this so-called therapy, they just drugged the fuck out of me. I lost entire weeks at a time. I think, in the end, my body just got too weak to respond. So they declared me cured and shipped me home.”

“And are you?” Remus asked softly.

“What, cured?” Sirius asked. “Fuck, no. Just traumatised. Still don’t like women, too fucking damaged to love anyone else.”

“You know you’re not sick or anything, right?” Remus asked. “I mean, we’re talking about you being cured, or not, but I don’t think it’s a disease, what we’re like. It’s just who we are. Just a different kind of normal.” Remus shrugged. “I guess that’s what I was hoping to show you tonight - that there’s places where we can be ourselves, safe little spaces that our people have carved out in the world, where we can hide away from all the cruelty and the hate. Sorry it went so spectacularly arse up.”

“‘s okay,” Sirius said, with a lopsided half-smile. “I appreciate the thought. Sorry for running out on you like that.”

Remus just made a dismissive gesture. “Panic’s a bitch,” he said. “So, do you want to go back to the flat? Maybe stop by the video rental on the way, grab a movie?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius said. “Sorry again.”

“No sweat,” Remus said, trying to keep it light. “C’mon, let’s go.”

They walked quietly side by side, each lost in his own thoughts. Remus was horrified at what he’d learned, even though he’d only caught a tiny glimpse of what Sirius had lived through for almost 2 years. On the one hand, he wanted to ask more, to get the full story and try to understand the trauma Sirius carried with him. On the other hand, he wanted to scrub the memory from his brain. The thought of anyone hurting Sirius, inflicting pain on him for something that he didn’t choose and couldn’t control - hell, something that Remus had come to believe wasn’t even inherently wrong or bad - made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Remus watched that thought go by, and marveled at how much his own mindset had changed over the last year, after spending so many years in shame and denial. Not for the first time, he thanked his lucky stars for the friends who’d enveloped him in their acceptance and love, until he learned to accept and love himself. Albus, Gellert, Marlene, Dorcas - these people had shown him a different way of life. If he kept his sexual orientation a secret now (and he did, of course he did), it was simply out of concern for his own safety, not because he believed it was something to be ashamed of.

Remus glanced at Sirius. He still looked somewhat tense, walking with his shoulders hunched over and his hands stuck in his pockets, a faint crease cutting between his eyebrows. He appeared to be lost in thought. Remus was torn between wanting to ask what was on his mind, and wanting to steer their conversation to a less problematic topic, to lighten the mood and perhaps make Sirius smile again.

In the end, he didn’t say a word as they walked all the way to the video store.

\---

“So. Luke or Han?”

Remus looked over at Sirius while the end credits of Star Wars played in the background. Sirius was sprawled out sideways over half the couch, his knees bent and his shins pressed almost against Remus’s thighs. He was finally relaxed and smiling again, and the sight warmed Remus’s heart. 

“Sorry, what?” Remus asked

“Who do you think Leia should go for?” Sirius repeated, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Luke or Han?”

“Hmm,” Remus considered. “I think I’d have to say Han. His whole sexy bad boy thing rather works for me. Luke’s a bit too much of a child; Han’s a  _ real  _ man.”

“Oh, so you like a sexy bad boy, do you?” Sirius teased, poking Remus with his toe.

“Oh, shut up,” Remus said, blushing. He decided that deflection was his best strategy. “What about you? Who would you pick?”

Sirius appeared to think it over. “I rather like Luke,” he said. “He’s got those pretty puppy-dog eyes. Don’t see how anyone could resist that.”

“Who would have thought, Sirius Black has a weakness for a pretty face,” Remus teased.

“Well, I did kiss you,” Sirius pointed out. 

Remus was surprised. It was the first time Sirius had referred to what had happened between them back then, even obliquely. He decided to keep it light, though.

“Oh, so you’re saying I have a pretty face?” he asked, batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius laughed. “You know you do.”

Well, no, actually. Remus thought he was probably okay looking, but nothing special. He had a sudden urge to run away. Sirius teasing him like this, flattering him - almost, dare he think it, flirting? It was more than he could take.

“Well,” he said after a moment, sounding flustered even to his own ears. “Shall we put on the next movie? See which of us was right?”

“Sure”

-

“See?” Sirius nudged him as Luke and Leia kissed on screen. “I told you, the pretty face gets the girl.”

“Well, that’s me fucked then,” Remus grumbled.

“Well. Maybe the pretty face can get the boy, too,” Sirius said.

“I can always hope.”

-

“You still up for the third movie?” Sirius asked as the second film wound down. It was late - very late, way past his bedtime, but Remus was entirely disinclined to move. The couch was comfy, and Sirius was  _ right there _ .

“Sure.”

-

“She’s his  _ sister?! _ That’s fucked up!”

-

“See!” Remus crowed in delight. “I told you! Han gets the girl!”

“Well, strictly speaking, the girl got both of them,” Sirius pointed out. “Let’s be honest, Leia’s the one calling the shots here.”

“True,” Remus conceded. “That woman takes no shit. She reminds me of Marlene, a little.”

“Maybe Han and Luke should just leave Leia to run the galaxy, and go off into the sunset together, hmm?”

Remus laughed. “Now that’s a happy ending I can get behind.”

-

By the time the last film’s end credits were rolling, Remus was fighting to keep his eyes open. 

“Woe betide the one who wakes me up before noon tomorrow,” he said, stifling a yawn.

”Agreed,” Sirius said. “Let’s hit the sack.”

They wandered off in the direction of the bedrooms, pausing awkwardly in the hallway just outside their doors. 

“Well, goodnight,” Remus said. “Sleep tight.”

Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Rem?” he said. “Thanks for tonight. For the movies, and… before.”

“No problem,” Remus said, giving him a small smile. And before he knew it, Sirius was pulling him into a hug. Remus wound his arms around Sirius’s back and just revelled in the nearness, in the heat of his chest and the weight of his arms.

“Thanks for understanding,” Sirius mumbled into his shoulder. “For not freaking out, or hating me. For being a good friend.”

“Anytime,” Remus answered, even though friendship was so much less than he wanted. If a friend was what Sirius needed right now, that’s what he would damn well be. “Anything. I’ll always be here for you.”

A tighter squeeze was Sirius’s only answer.

\---

Remus was woken up by the phone ringing entirely too early the next morning. He had some choice words for the offending device as he stumbled to the kitchen, but he brightened immediately when he heard Albus’s voice on the line. 

“Remus, dear boy, glad I caught you,” he greeted in his usual cheerful way. 

“Hey, Al,” Remus smiled. “I hope you have a good reason for waking me up at arse o’clock on Easter Sunday?”

“Oh, were you still asleep? Awfully sorry.” He didn’t sound particularly remorseful, an impression that was strengthened by Gellert yelling “told you!” In the background. 

“Well, I’m awake now,” Remus said. “What’s up?”

“Good, good,” Al said. “I was just wondering, do you think you could stop at that bakery near yours and get us some hot cross buns for this afternoon?”

Oh shit, he’d completely forgot that he was supposed to have lunch with the godfathers today. The plans had been made way back, before he’d invited Sirius to come visit, and it had (understandably, he felt) slipped his mind completely. 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot,” Remus apologised. “I’ve got a friend staying over.”

“Oh? Anyone we know? A romantic interest, perhaps?” 

Remus rolled his eyes fondly - when it came to gossip, Al was like a shark that smelled blood. 

“Just an old friend from the army,” he said. “He’s up from the Cape for the weekend.”

“Well, you must bring him along, dear boy,” Albus insisted. ”The more the merrier, I always say, and you know Gell always cooks far too much anyway.”

“Um,” Remus wasn’t too sure about it. After the way Sirius reacted last night, he didn’t know if he would be up for spending an evening with probably the gayest couple in Joburg.

“Oh, come now,” Al teased. “Ashamed of us, are you? We’ll be on our best behaviour, I promise.”

“No, no. It’s not that,” Remus said. “Look, I’ll ask him, and get back to you.”

“Ask who what?” Sirius said, stumbling into the kitchen. “Also, you’re awfully noisy. And also, where’s the coffee?”

“Hang on a sec, Al,” Remus said, and put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Sirius, do you want to have lunch with my gay godfathers this afternoon? Coffee’s in the cabinet above the kettle.”

“Your  _ what now? _ ” Sirius goggled.

“Al and Gell; remember, I told you about them?” Remus had regaled Sirius with quite a few stories about the strange couple in the last few months.

“Oh, them. Hell, yeah!” Sirius beamed. “They sound awesome. Ah ha, bingo!” He proudly held up the coffee canister.

“Make me some too.” Remus turned back to the phone. “Okay Al, we’ll be there. Apparently I made you sound interesting enough that Sirius is intrigued.”

“Wonderful! Remember those buns, then, and we’ll see you at noon.”

“Sure thing. And remember, you promised: best behaviour.”

-

Lunch with the godfathers was… a lot less dramatic than Remus had expected, truth be told. Albus kept to his promise of best behaviour, and refrained from any teasing about Sirius or what his intentions might be. When they arrived, Remus had pulled Al aside and shared only the bare minimum - that yes, Sirius was gay, but he’d had some difficult experiences in the army, and got shoved so far back into the closet he could probably see Narnia, so Al was please to refrain from making any comments about it. And miraculously, Al had listened for once in his life. Not that he and Gell completely refrained from their usual easy affection, but they kept it light and didn’t say anything about Sirius (or, for that matter, Remus and his non-existent love life).

“Thanks, Al,” Remus said when they were busy washing up afterwards. Sirius and Gellert had disappeared off into the living room, the latter playing his favourite _ ‘I cooked, so you clean’ _ card. They were seated on the couch, heads close together and engaged in some very serious-looking conversation. Remus thought it best to leave them to it; he trusted Gell not to be an insensitive arse.

“Whatever for?” Albus asked.

“For keeping your promise. Best behaviour and all that.” Remus smiled. 

“Of course. Of course. What else did you expect?”

“Oh, come on,” Remus chuckled. “You’ve got more mischief in you than a boy’s boarding school and you know it.”

“True.” Albus’s eyes twinkled. “But believe it or not, I can tell when a plea is truly heartfelt. And, well, this seemed important to you.”

“It is.”

“There is a history between you?” Albus probed gently. Remus hadn’t told them about Sirius; really, no-one but Marlene knew anything like the full story. God, he missed her; he couldn’t wait for her to get back tomorrow so that they could talk through all the new revelations from this weekend.

“There is,” Remus said. “Sort of. It’s a bit… Look, I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell you much more than what I already have. Not my secrets to share, know what I mean?” Remus smiled apologetically.

“Of course, dear boy,” Albus said. He regarded Remus speculatively. ‘“But you like him, yes?”

“He’s my friend.”  _ Please, please don’t pry further. _

“Just a friend? Because it seems to me-”

“Damn it, Al,” Remus said, exasperated. “Yes, he’s just a friend. It’s… That’s all it can be right now. Maybe ever. So don’t push it. Please.”

Albus was silent for a moment before he said, softly: “I’m sorry, Remus. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Remus sighed. “I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to. But… things are complicated, you know?”

“I don’t think I do,” Albus said. “But I can respect your wishes.”

“Thanks.”

“You know you can talk to us, if you ever need to, yes?”

Remus smiled, suddenly overcome with gratitude for this older man who’d taken him under his wing. 

“I do. Thanks, Al.” He leaned over and gave Albus a one-armed hug.

Albus just smiled and pulled the plug to let the dirty dishwater drain.

“Come on,” he said as he hung the wrung-out washcloth over the edge of the basin to dry. “Let’s go save your friend before Gell talks his ear off.”

-

“Thanks for taking me to meet them,” Sirius said later, when they were back at the flat. “It’s… kind of surreal, seeing two men living together like that.”

“I know what you mean,” Remus said. “Took me a while to get used to it, if I’m honest. But at least Al behaved himself today. He can be a real drama queen when he wants to.”

“I can just imagine,” Sirius chuckled. 

“You haven’t seen him after a few glasses of wine,” Remus remarked drily. “Let’s just say, when the feather boa comes out, it’s time to go home.”

“Oh, dear God,” Sirius laughed at whatever mental image this had conjured up. 

“You and Gell seemed to be hitting it off,” Remus said carefully. He was dying to know what they’d been talking about, but didn’t feel like he could just come out and ask.

“Yeah, we had a good chat,” Sirius said. “He seems to be the more level-headed of the two.”

“Oh, definitely,” Remus said. “No contest. Maybe that’s why he attracts the crazies. You know: Al, you…”

Sirius chucked a cushion at him.

\---

Sirius had to leave early the next morning; he had a long day’s travel ahead of him. Remus wished he didn’t have to leave at all. Three days (well, two and a bit, really) wasn’t nearly long enough. And now it was time to say goodbye again.

“Thanks again, for everything.” Sirius said. “It’s been great. Kinda wish I could stay longer.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Remus answered. “But duty calls. We’ll do this again sometime, yeah? You know you’re welcome any time.”

“Thanks Rem,” Sirius said. “Really. And the same for you; come visit anytime when you’re down in the Cape.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment. It seemed as if Sirius was just as reluctant to leave as Remus was to let him go.

“Can I...” Sirius said nervously. “Um… Hug? Before I go?”

Remus didn’t need to be asked twice. Didn’t need to be asked even once, really. “Of course,” he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Sirius. They stood there in silence, hanging on, for much longer than normal friendship could really justify. Remus didn’t give a flying fuck. No way would he be the first to let go; he was going to enjoy this for as long as he could, because hell knows when he would get the chance again.

Eventually Sirius pulled away. “Better get going, then.” He picked up his bag and hefted it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess,” Remus said. “You drive safe, hey. And phone me when you get home, you know I’ll be worrying.”

“‘Course, mum,” Sirius grinned at him.

“Fuck off.” Remus grinned back. “Seriously, though. If I don’t hear from you by nightfall, I’m phoning your parents.”

“Heaven forbid,” Sirius said. “I solemnly swear that I will phone you as soon as I set foot in the house. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, then.”

“Bye.”

-

Remus wasn’t moping. He wasn’t. 

Except that he kind of was.

Marlene arrived back mid-afternoon, and immediately picked up on his mood.

“You okay, Wolfie?” She’d started using the nickname after Al regaled her with the story of Romulus and Remus, and also pointed out that  _ Lupine _ meant wolf-like.

“I’m… kinda wonderful and awful all at the same time?” he answered. Honestly, he wasn’t really clear on how he was feeling himself.

“Sirius?” Marlene guessed. Remus could only nod.

“I’ll make tea,” she said. 

A couple of hours later, they’d graduated from tea to wine, accompanied by deliciously greasy chicken and chips from Fontana. Remus had recounted just about every minute of Sirius’s visit, including the disaster of the Butterfly outing and the visit to the godfathers and the hugs and the constant sense of  _ what-the-hell-is-this-are-you-flirting-with-me?! _ that he mostly put down to wishful thinking. Marlene was regarding him with amusement and just a tinge of concern.

When the phone rang, he jumped to answer it.

“Hey Rem” Sirius’s voice came from the other side. “I’m home, safe and sound, checking in as promised.”

God, he missed him already.

They spoke for a few minutes before saying goodbye, Sirius claiming that he needed to go wash the dirt of the road off him and then sleep for a week.

Marlene gave him one look when he came back into the living room before exclaiming, “Oh, my darling boy, you are  _ so _ fucked.” 

“Tell me about it,” Remus said, plopping down on the sofa, burying his head in his hands, and giving a heartfelt groan. 

*****************************************************

Remus didn’t see Sirius again until the end of that year, although they talked on the phone at least once a week. Long, rambling conversations about… well, everything.  _ Really  _ everything, now: the simple, everyday stuff as well as the more difficult things. Bit by bit, they started talking about what happened during those fateful years when they were both barely more than children. Dredging up those memories was never easy, but on the whole, Remus thought, it was worth it.

One of the more surprising things Remus learned was that Sirius had started seeing a therapist. He couldn’t imagine how difficult that must have been, considering Sirius’s last experience in a psychiatric treatment facility (or Hell-with-a-capital-H, as they liked to refer to it). It turned out Gellert had referred him to an old friend of his from his university days, a lovely lady who did her postgraduate studies in Amsterdam and came back with the firm conviction that the South African mental health field as a whole needed to get their heads out of their own butts.

“Minnie says you’re good for me,” Sirius said one day, when they were talking about the strange Scottish lady.

“Oh? How so?” Remus was intrigued.

“Apparently it’s good for me to talk about things,” Sirius explained. “And you’re a safe person to do that with.”

“Oh.” Remus felt warmed by this admission. “But… just me? Don’t you have, I don’t know, other friends you talk to? Family?”

Sirius snorted out a laugh. “Family? Fuck, no. My parents remain convinced that my stay in Hell cured my  _ deviancy _ .” Sirius said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. It certainly left a bad taste in Remus’s brain. “If they found out otherwise, they’d probably disinherit me. With a chainsaw.”

“Jeez, that rough, huh?” Remus asked. He wasn’t out to his own parents, either, and the idea of it was more than a little scary, but he couldn’t imagine them getting hateful about it.

“Worse,” Sirius said grimly. 

“And friends?” Remus asked.

“Well, there’s James. He knows, and he’s cool about it, but he doesn’t  _ get it _ like we do. He’s never been there.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Remus said. He was lucky, with his friends and the circles they introduced him to. It felt like he, at least, had a little corner of the world he could call home. A little community of people who understood.

“And as for the rest,” Sirius went on, “no-one else knows. I’m a stranger even to my friends. Sad, isn’t it?”

It was, a little.

\---

Remus spent Christmas with his parents on the farm, and had plans to go down to the Potters’ house in Plett afterwards. James and Lily were throwing a big New Years party, and had invited them all to stay for a few days.

Sirius would be there too. Every time Remus thought of that, it sent a little shiver of nervousness through him. He’d learned so much more about Sirius through all their conversations over the last few months, gotten to know him so much better, and it hadn’t done a single damn thing to ease his inconvenient little crush. Worse, Sirius still didn’t give any sign of reciprocation. Whether it was from fear of being outed, or from genuine lack of romantic interest in Remus… well, that was irrelevant, wasn’t it? It was all the same in the end.

So while Remus was excited about getting to see Sirius again, he was also apprehensive. He would have to be careful not to say or do anything to draw suspicion - something made extra difficult by the fact that he was so used to being himself around his friends up in Joburg. It was difficult enough to watch himself around his parents; what would he do when the object of all his dreams was  _ right there _ ? 

Boy, he really needed to get himself under control before new year’s. 

-

He’d been back at home only a few days, and he was  _ tired _ . Tired of having to hide who he was; tired of having to examine every word that came out of his mouth, every story he told, in case he accidentally said something that would incriminate himself.

_ Enough _ , he decided, the day before he was due to leave for Plett. He’d had enough of hiding - at least in his own childhood home, among the people who were supposed to love him most. 

That evening after dinner, he finally scraped his courage together. They were lingering at the table after dinner, sharing a last cup of tea - a habit they’d had for as long as Remus could remember. His heart ached with the comforting familiarity of it.

“Mom, dad,” he started. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something important.”

“Sounds serious,” his dad remarked.

“It is,” he said, and faltered for a moment. He took a sip of tea to try and delay the inevitable just a bit.

“Well, go on, then,” his mother prodded.

_ Courage, Lupin, _ he admonished himself.

“Okay. Well. The thing is…” He took a deep breath to fortify himself. “The thing is… I’m… gay.”

His parents didn’t say anything. They just exchanged a look that Remus couldn’t quite decipher.

“Okay,” his father said at last.

“Okay?” he said, disbelieving. “That’s it?”

“Thank you for telling us?” his father replied, seeming a little confused.

His mother took his hand. 

“Darling, you’re ours,” she said kindly. “We  _ know  _ you. Do you really think we haven’t considered the possibility?”

Well, that was anticlimactic.

“And… you don’t mind?” he asked, nonplussed.

“Well, it’s not ideal,” his father said. “I mean, it’s going to make your life a lot more difficult, isn’t it? I’d rather you didn’t have to deal with all that. And we’re worried for your safety, of course we are.”

“What your father’s trying to say,” his mother interrupted, “is that it doesn’t make us love you any less. We just want you to be happy, and safe.”

Remus was crying by this point; silent tears of relief burning his eyes.

“Thank you,” he rasped. He stumbled over to his mother and enveloped her in a hug; her slight frame almost getting lost in his taller, broader one. “Thank you. I love you,” he managed between sobs.

He felt his father’s arms wrap around the both of them. 

“We love you too, son. No matter what.”

Remus felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

\---

New year’s eve found them on the beach. Well, most of them - Lily, poor soul, had already made a beeline for the nearest bed, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep between baby Harry’s multiple night feeds. Heavens knew what was keeping James going, since he slept little more than Lily did on any given night, but he was still partying with the rest of them. He would pay for it tomorrow, Remus reckoned.

Frank and Arthur, and their girlfriends Alice and Molly, had managed to come down for New Year’s too, so it felt like a proper squad reunion. There were a few new faces, too; people James and Lily knew from school and work. All in all, it was a pretty pleasant crowd of people to greet the new year with.

Of course, Remus only really had eyes for one person. Fuck, this was getting pathetic. How long would he stay hung up on this man, who was clearly not interested in anything but friendship?

Then again, what other options did he have? It’s not like he had a horde of romantic prospects beating down his door. Besides, that kind of relationship wasn’t really on the table for their kind, was it? It was all secrets and hiding and as much snogging as they could get away with in Butterfly’s lounge (or the toilets, of course, where a lot more than snogging went on, but Remus hadn’t ventured that far). He certainly wasn’t about to take anyone home, or follow anyone else to theirs. It wouldn’t be fair, really, when his heart still belonged firmly to one Sirius Black.

He went to get another drink, and tried not to think about it.

-

It was nearing midnight, and they were all sprawled out on a couple of picnic blankets, watching the fireworks being set off by a group of teenagers further down the beach. Remus kept his gaze on the coloured lights, trying to ignore the sound of Alice and Frank enthusiastically tongue-wrestling somewhere to the left of him, and the warmth of Sirius to his right.

“Jealous, Rem?” Sirius asked when he gave Frank an exasperated look after a particularly loud moan.

“Green with it,” Remus deadpanned. “I always wanted to kiss Frank.”

Sirius snorted. “You can do better than him.” 

“Yes, they cute guys are just lining up for a piece of me,” Remus retorted drily, gesturing to a non-existent queue of suitors. 

Sirius laughed. “Seems we’re the only two without someone to kiss at midnight.” 

“Poor us,” Remus agreed, laying the back of his hand on his forehead melodramatically. “Doomed to eternal bachelorhood.” 

Then Sirius leaned in close, so close that only Remus could possibly hear his next words, whispered directly into his ear. “Shame I can’t kiss you.”

What. The. Fuck?

“Sirius, how drunk are you?” Remus said, opting for the reaction that wouldn’t betray his suddenly racing heart.

“Entirely sober. Haven’t had a beer since ten, and didn’t have that many before that.”

“Really?” Remus looked over at him, eyebrows raised. Green and red light flickered over Sirius’s face as the fireworks continued going off in the background, turning his eyes a different colour with every flash. 

“Really.” Oh, those eyes! There was something in them that Remus couldn’t quite place; something like pleading and defiance and just a hint of fear.

“Well,” Remus said, a little breathless, “Pity this is such a public place, then.”

“Yes. Pity.” Sirius’s eyes didn’t leave Remus’s for a second.

“Rain check, though?” Remus managed.

“Absolutely.”

\---

“When are you going back home?” Sirius asked over breakfast. Well, brunch. Okay, lunch, but they were having eggs and mimosas, and that made it brunch, no matter what the clock said.

“I was planning to get the train back to Joburg tomorrow,” Remus answered. “Work only starts on Monday, but I have a few things to get done. You?”

“I don’t really have plans,” Sirius said. “I’m off until Monday too. Thought I’d probably hang around here till everyone else leaves.” He thought for a bit. “Say, do you want to come visit at mine?”

“Sure,” Remus replied easily. “When?”

“Today,” Sirius said. “That way you can still catch your train tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Remus hadn’t been expecting that; he thought Sirius was talking about some distant future visit. “Okay.”

“Awesome!” Sirius looked like Christmas had just come all over again.

-

They were on the motorbike again. Of course they were, what was he expecting? Remus hung on, gripping his own wrist with his arms wrapped securely around Sirius’s middle, and tried not to think about what this was doing to his poor heart.

When Sirius stopped, it wasn’t at his parent’s house. It didn’t take Remus more than a moment to recognise the place, even though he’d only been here once before, some two years ago.

“Come for a swim?” Sirius asked as he pulled off his jacket.

“Depends,” Remus said. “You going to disappear on me again after?” It came out a bit harsher than he intended, but being here brought back far too many unpleasant memories; reminded him of a hurt he’d worked long and hard to get over.

Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened last time… it was shit of me, I know. But I was scared, and hurt, and-”

“I know, Sirius,” Remus cut him off. “I know. It’s in the past, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, sounding relieved. “Anyway, I’d like a do-over.”

“Well, then,” Remus said, grinning. “What are you waiting for? Last one in is a rotten egg!” He sprinted away, pulling off his t-shirt as he went.

“Wait up, you arse!” he heard Sirius shout behind him. Remus just laughed and ran into the ocean, shorts and all.

“Fuck, that’s still freezing!” Remus gasped as he surfaced for air.

Sirius laughed, catching up with him. “Serves you right, show off.”

“Oh, piss of,” Remus said with a laugh, splashing Sirius in the face.

Next thing he knew, he was tackled and held aloft. “Hold your breath,” was all the warning he got before he was plunged back under the icy water.

“You utter shit!” Remus gasped as he surfaced, kicking Sirius’s legs out from under him and sending him tumbling.

They wrestled like children, each trying to duck the other under the water, neither of them really getting the upper hand. Remus had Sirius in a headlock, and Sirius was kicking ineffectually at his shins, trying in vain to break Remus’s grip. 

“Do you surrender?” Remus growled, right in Sirius’s ear.

“Never!”

“Then prepare to -mmmph!” Remus didn’t finish his sentence, because he was silenced by Sirius’s mouth on his.

Remus immediately forgot all about what he’d been doing, every alarm bell in his mind going off at once. He loosened his grip, pulled away to ask Sirius what the fuck he was doing - and promply got dunked for his trouble.

“You bastard! That was dirty!” he spluttered to Sirius, who was laughing his head off. Remus briefly considered strangling him, but then he decided to fight fire with fire. After a quick look to ascertain that they were still alone, he grabbed Sirius’s face in both hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, before delivering a bruising kiss of his own. It turned out to be a very effective tactic.

After a few moments, Sirius pulled back, looking around wildly. Remus was just about to start panicking that he’d once again pushed it too far, when Sirius pulled him closer again. The kiss was tender, this time; chaste and closed-mouthed and over far too quickly.

“Not here, yeah?” Sirius murmured. “Not that I wasn’t enjoying that, but-”

“Yeah, I know,” Remus said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you fucking dare apologise, Lupin,” Sirius said firmly. “I’ve been dreaming of that for  _ years _ .”

Well. At least he wasn’t the only one.

-

They didn’t kiss again. They also didn’t talk about it. They just kept swimming until they were shivering with cold, and then they got dried off and made their way back to Sirius’s parents house. Sirius confessed to Remus that he was still staying with them, even though he was dying to get his own place, because he didn’t have a job yet. Well, no that wasn’t quite right; he had a job, but not an income. He was working as a filing clerk and general errand boy in his father’s law firm, but the old man considered room and board to be payment enough for his son’s services. Unlike his younger brother Reg (short not for something normal like Reginald or Reghardt, but Regulus - and really, that told you everything you needed to know about the Blacks), who was the star student in his Law class, just like mom and dad wanted, and was guaranteed a cushy job with a generous salary the moment he graduated.

But Sirius - well, Sirius was not exactly their idea of the ideal son, that much was clear. Spending more than five minutes in their presence, it was obvious to Remus that his friend really didn’t fit in with his family at all. They were all stiff formality and keeping the status quo, while Sirius had always been a free spirit. And they didn’t exactly hide their disapproval, sending thinly-disguised barbs Sirius’s way all through dinner. Remus couldn’t be more happy when they finally retired for the night.

They were sitting on Sirius’s bed, Bowie playing in the background - one of the records Sirius had bought in Hillbrow, Remus was pleased to remember.

“I see what you mean about your family,” Remus said.

“Yeah, they’re bloody hard work,” Sirius agreed. “Doesn’t help that Reggie is such a suck-up either; makes me look even worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, not knowing what else to say. Sirius waved him off.

Remus couldn’t help but compare them to his own parents. He’d never really thought about it, but he realised now that he was incredibly lucky to have their unconditional love and support. To him, that was simply the norm, something he could take for granted. It didn’t sit right with him, the thought that parents could be any other way.

“I told my parents,” he blurted out at last. “About being gay, I mean. They know now.”

Sirius’s eyebrows climbed. “Oh? And? How did they take it?”

“Pretty well, actually,” Remus said. “They didn’t even seem particularly surprised. They were a bit worried for me, but they said they loved me regardless.”

“Wow.” Sirius had his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Are your parents even real? Do you think they’d adopt me?”

Remus had to chuckle at that. “I’d really rather they not. Be a bit weird if you were my brother, what with the kissing and all.”

Sirius blushed pink. “About that…”

Remus felt his heart sink. He just knew Sirius was going to take it back, say it was a mistake, ask if they can just forget about it. He steeled himself for the inevitable. 

“Yes?” he asked hesitantly.

“Think we can do it again?”

Okay, that was not what he’d expected. Not unwelcome, but…

“Sirius.” Remus shuffled over to him, took his hand. “What is this to you? Where do you see this going? Cause the last time…” He swallowed, and continued softly: “I can’t let myself get hurt like that again.”

“Fuck, Rem, I don’t know,” Sirius said, sounding a little exasperated. “I don’t know where any of this is going. I don’t even know where  _ I’m _ going. I’m a fucking mess, you know it. I’m trying, and I’m getting better, but still. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.” Sirius brought his other hand around to take Remus’s in both of his. “All I know is, I’ve been crazy about you for a very, very long time. I just finally have the courage to do something about it.”

“No running away anymore?” Remus asked.

“Only running together,” Sirius confirmed.

“Well, all right then.” Remus couldn’t keep the smile off his face any longer. “C’mere.”

He was kissing Sirius. Fuck, he was  _ kissing Sirius! _ And not a quick, stolen kiss, but a proper, deliberate, drawn-out liplock. Remus thought he could easily lose himself in it, in that press and slide of lips and tongues and teeth; hands tangling in hair and sliding down backs, soft sighs and gasps and moans that they just couldn’t contain.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Of-fucking-course they were.

“Sirius?” came Reg’s voice

“What is it, Reggie?” Sirius snapped.

“Phone for you. It’s James.”

“Fine, coming,” Sirius relented with a groan. He gave Remus a last peck on the lips. “Be back in a sec.”

Sirius wasn’t gone long. Not long enough for Remus to start panicking, at least.

“What did James want?” Remus asked when Sirius got back into the room, carefully closing and locking the door behind him.

“Just wanted to make sure we got home okay.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, running his hand up Sirius’s forearm. “And are you? Okay?”

“Extremely.” Sirius grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close. “I’m so fucking okay they’re gonna have to invent a new word for it. Now, where were we?”

“Remind me,” Remus said with a coy smile.

Sirius didn’t have to be told twice, and Remus responded with equal enthusiasm. He would be gone tomorrow, after all; this might be the last time he kissed Sirius for months. He would damn well make it count.

Eventually, though, they had to call it a night. Remus made his way to the spare room - he definitely wasn’t going to tempt fate by spending the night in Sirius’s bed. He got a bit disoriented in the dark, though, and stumbled into Reg’s room by accident. To his surprise, the younger man was still awake, sitting in bed reading.

“Oops, sorry,” Remus said sheepishly. “Guess I got lost.”

“Next door on,” Reg said icily.

“Sure. Thanks. Um, goodnight,” Remus greeted him awkwardly. Reg just gave him a haughty glare, so Remus shuffled out without another word, closing the door behind him. Jeez, he really was a stuck up little shit. And to think he was the best of the lot, according to Sirius. It was enough to make one weep.

Sleep didn’t come easily to Remus Lupin that night. He was far too keyed up, every nerve still alight with the thrill of their kisses. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the ghost of Sirius’s lips, his hands, his tongue.

Fuck, this wasn’t helping. What Remus craved, what he  _ needed _ , was release. He’d been rather embarrassingly aroused since about three seconds into the first kiss, and he wanted nothing more than to take things to their logical conclusion. But that wasn’t going to happen, not with Sirius just down the corridor. It was… disrespectful, or something. Besides, his nosy little brother was just next door, and Remus didn’t trust himself to be entirely silent.

He burrowed his face into the pillow instead and tried to force his brain to shut down.

-

He got a few hours of sleep before he was woken up by a gentle knock on his door.

“Morning sunshine,” Sirius said with a grin as he landed on the bed. 

Remus blinked against the morning light. “Wha’s the time?” he mumbled, tongue still heavy with sleep. He’d been in the middle of a very enjoyable dream, thank you very much, and didn’t exactly appreciate being woken up, no matter how lovely the messenger. And damn, wasn’t he lovely, with his pajama pants riding low on his hips and his black vest that hugged every muscle. Remus thought he could even see the peaks of his nipples through the thin fabric, and  _ fuuuuck _ , that train of thought wasn’t really helping his morning situation. Thank God he was still hidden under the duvet from the chest down.

“Just gone six,” Sirius said. 

“You have  _ got _ to be kidding me,” Remus groaned.

“Shh,” Sirius admonished in a whisper. “You’ll wake Reggie.”

“Lucky him,” Remus whispered back. “Why exactly do I need to be awake at this ungodly hour?”

“Thought we might have a bit of time together before the rest of them woke up,” Sirius said, taking his hand and threading their fingers together. Remus softened immediately.

“Yeah, okay,” he relented, turning on his side to face Sirius.

Their position, lying on their sides facing each other, brought up a memory so sharp that it hit him with almost physical force: a cold, wet night in a trench, what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Do you remember…” Sirius began, bringing his hand up to trail along Remus’s cheek, just like he had that night.

“Yes,” Remus whispered. “How could I forget?”

“Still so fucking beautiful,” Sirius said, continuing his gentle exploration of Remus’s features.

“I wanted to kiss you so badly that night,” Remus breathed. “It was… terrifying.”

“Kiss me now?”

_ This. _ This was what they should have had all along. Quiet mornings and soft kisses and whispered sweet nothings. Not pain, and fear, and hiding. 

But they had it now. They had today, and if they were lucky, some as-yet-undetermined amount of time in the future. Remus swore that he would make it last, would make it as good as it could be.

Eventually, Sirius’s wristwatch beeped - he’d had the foresight to set an alarm - and they reluctantly dragged themselves down to the kitchen to go make some coffee. And not a moment too soon; Reggie arrived just as the kettle was boiling.

They didn’t get another moment to themselves, and far too soon it was time for Remus to catch his train. Sirius took him to the station on his motorbike, and this time Remus wasn’t even the least bit ashamed of snuggling into him on the ride.

They couldn’t exactly kiss goodbye, out there in the open, so they made do with an awkward handshake-turned-hug, the kind that wouldn’t raise suspicion but at least afforded them a last moment of contact.

“Phone when you get home, yeah?” Sirius said.

“Who’s a mother hen now?” Remus teased.

“Arse.” Sirius gave him a playful shove. Then his eyes softened, and he gave Remus’s bicep a last squeeze. “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah,” Remus responded. “Me too.”

And then the train whistle sounded, and there was nothing for it but to get on board and wave goodbye. Remus left a piece of his heart on the platform that day, but he figured it was okay; he was pretty certain he was taking a piece of Sirius’s with him.

*****************************************************

**Author's Note:**

> As a last thought, feel free to chat in the comments or on Tumblr (  
> [I’m sani-86 there ](https://sani-86.tumblr.com/)). Ask me stuff, scream with me about how horrible the world was. I like to chat.


End file.
